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stevie-petey · 6 months

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episode two: the weirdo on maple street

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp. “Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your review sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

summary: you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

rating: general, but there's cursing as usual and steve being... well, steve - but hes still season 1 steve so give him some time

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, use of y/n, and there's more angst in this chapter with some fighting between reader and jonathan, so fair warning.

words: 10.1k (the longest thing ive ever written)

before you swing in: i'm almost done with chapter 4, so here's a sweet treat as i cram for exams lmao. some housekeeping: should i do a tag list ? i got a few questions about it, so pls let me know soldiers. also, i feel the need to clarify that i adore nancy but for plot reasons - reader and her don't really get along (but they def will later, trust me). season 1 nancy and steve are just so silly. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this loooong chapter. the rest definitely aren't as lengthy due to plot, but wow. i amazed myself. carry on !

Your jeans drip onto the Wheeler’s carpet, and you’ve definitely left a wet imprint on the couch cushion beneath you. The other boys are dripping as well, but all their attention is on the girl in front of them.

After finding her in the woods, your motherly instincts kicked in, immediately removing your coat to place on her and gently ushering her to your bike and demanding that the boys go back to Mike’s. Your mom is home, so your house was out of the question, and it’s always been easy sneaking into the Wheeler’s, anyways.

Once you all had made it back, you guided the girl onto the couch and sat next to her. You refuse to let her go too far from you, having no idea where she came from or why, but regardless you know she’s too young for any of it to have been good.

Which leads you to now: wearily watching the boys stare at the girl as if she’s some science experiment, asking her a million questions a second.

Bless them and their little prepubescent minds.

Lucas reaches out to touch her, and before you can nudge him away, Mike slaps at his hand. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas retaliates, which honestly? That’s fair. The girl hasn’t said anything yet, even after your multiple attempts to get her to do so. No matter how much you try, you can’t coax a response out of her.

“I bet she’s deaf.” Your brother offers, suddenly clapping his hands to scare her, making both you and her flinch. “Not deaf…”

You roll your eyes at him. “Guys, she’s probably just really scared right now. We should give her some space,” you look at both Lucas and Dustin, “and time,” now you look at Mike. The three boys deflate a bit.

“She’s probably cold,” Mike says after a moment of silence, and you nod at his suggestion. Seeing your agreement, he walks over to a basket of clothes and takes out some pajamas.

While Mike is away, thunder rumbles and the girl jumps, unconsciously getting closer to you. You wrap an arm around her reassuringly, making note that she doesn’t like loud noises. If anything, she’s showing more and more signs of trauma response, which makes you uneasy. You remember Hopper saying something about Will being in danger. What are the odds that this little girl was running from something as well?

“Here, these are clean.” Mike’s return breaks you from your thoughts, and you take the clothes from him and stand up. You thank him, then offer your hand to the girl. She looks at you uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Let’s go get you dressed in some warm clothes. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“She’s super nice.” Dustin says, trying to help.

Lucas adds, “Yeah, you can trust her.”

“She’s alright.” Is all Mike offers.

You give them all an appreciative smile, even if Mike is being a bit of an ass, and then you feel a small, cold hand wrap around yours. The girl stands up, looking around shyly, and you lead her to the bathroom. When you go to close the door, she stops you.

Mike has followed, seeing the interaction. “You don’t want it closed?”

Her voice is quiet, solemn. “No,”

You and Mike look at each other, and he voices what you’re thinking. “So you can speak.”

He looks excited about this new information, and you shove his head out of the doorway. She needs to get dressed. “We’ll leave the door cracked, okay?”

She nods at you, and you stand guard outside the door. It’s not that you don’t trust the boys, but Mike has only known her for ten minutes and he’s already been nicer to her than you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. The only other person he’s this soft spoken to is Will, so you’re protective of her.

You can hear the boys discussing tonight’s events from the living area while the girl gets dressed. They sound scared, and a part of you can’t blame them. While you’re fairly certain that the girl isn’t dangerous, it’s still a creepy situation. Once again, Hopper’s new theory surrounding Will floats through your mind. This all can’t be some coincidence.

Sighing, you approach the boys and catch a bit of the conversation.

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” You hear Lucas saying, and you figure they’ve finally pieced together that there’s no way any of you can tell anyone about the girl. None of you were supposed to be out tonight. As much as you know you should tell an adult, you also need to be able to help Jonathan with finding Will. If your mom locks the house down, you’re doomed.

“Lucas is right,” the boys turn to you. “We can’t go to anyone about this just yet, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to hide her. She’s been through something terrible, it’s obvious. Tonight, I say she gets some rest. We can figure out what to do later.”

Mike nods, for once agreeing wholeheartedly with you. “She’ll sleep here tonight-”

Dustin’s eyes widen in horror, “You’re letting a girl-”

You clamp your hand over his mouth, motioning for Mike to continue.

“Thanks, Y/N. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst,”

They think she’s from Pennhurst? You think, but don’t verbalize it.

“Or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

You gotta hand it to Mike Wheeler, he may be a pain in the ass, but he’s a smart pain in the ass. The plan is pretty sound, so long as he follows through with it. However, it’s him following through with it that leaves you a bit unsure.

He looks at you for approval, and you hesitantly nod. “It’s a pretty good plan, Wheeler. So long as you stick to it.”

Lucas and Dustin nod along with you, there’s an unspoken sense of doubt that Mike will actually be able to turn the girl over to his mom. Then she walks out, dressed now in some of Nancy’s old clothes. She draws into herself when you all turn to her, shy. You walk over and offer your hand again, which she accepts.

“Mike, go find her something to sleep on. Dustin, we gotta go soon before mom notices we’re gone.”

Both boys comply, with Mike searching for a sleeping bag and Dustin packing up his stuff. You crouch down next to the girl, so that you’re face to face, and give her a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. My name is Y/N, I hope Mike over there doesn’t give you a hard time tonight.”

Mike flips you off, having heard you. “If he’s annoying,” you lean in close to her now, whispering in her ear. “You have my permission to pinch him.”

The girl giggles, finally relaxing a bit, and you warm with pride. She’ll be okay, she seems like a very resilient girl and you’ll oddly miss her.

The two other boys are waiting for you upstairs. You all wish Mrs. Wheeler a good night and head out. Thankfully the rain has now stopped, so the bike ride home isn’t bad. You stop at Lucas’ turn to make sure he gets home safely before finally arriving at your place. As Dustin begins pedaling into your driveway, you don’t follow.

“I’m going to go see Jonathan, he didn’t answer my calls earlier and I just…”

Dustin waves at you, not even bothering to turn around. “Yeah yeah, go see your boyfriend. If mom asks, you’re asleep.”

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Are you seriously going to argue with me after I offered to cover for you?”

Your brother gives you a pointed look, and you know he’s right. “Touche.”

Dustin goes to leave, but you quickly grab at his jacket. “Before I forget, swear to me that you’ll keep me updated if anything weird happens, okay?”

He nods at you, knowing better than to argue, and gives you a mock salute as he heads inside.

The living room light is on when you arrive at the Byers home, despite the late hour, but you aren’t surprised. You knock on the door and wait. When no one comes, you knock again, a bit louder this time. After another few moments, the door swings open.

Jonathan has a finger over his lips in a shushing manner, motioning to Joyce who is passed out on the couch. You nod, letting him know you understand. The two of you go to his room and when he closes the door, you finally get a good look at him. He looks worse than he did earlier, the bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot.

“You’re soaked.” Jonathan says.

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so you play along. “Got caught in the rain. Are some of my spare clothes still in your bottom drawer?”

He nods at you, going over and grabbing a t-shirt and pajama pants for you. You accept them gratefully and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Your bones are cold, the rain seemingly having penetrated the layers of your skin. In the mirror you see that your own eyes are bloodshot; you don’t look much better than Jonathan, really.

When you return Jonathan is sitting on his bed, so you join him. It’s silent between you, all you can hear is his breathing. You stare straight ahead, so does he, and you wait. You’ve only seen Jonathan like this a handful of times, where the stress and anxiety becomes too much for him. He shuts down, draws into himself, and all you can do is wait for him to return to you; he always does.

“Mom got a call tonight.” Jonathan’s voice is hoarse, and he looks frail. You wonder if he ever did end up making the spaghetti you prepared for him.

“Who was it?”

He swallows heavily, taking a moment to respond. “She said it was Will.”

“Will?” You look at him now, searching for any signs on his face, his voice lacks emotion. By the way he stares blankly ahead, as if he’s not really present with you right now, you know that it hadn’t been Will on the other end.

“She started freaking out, going ballistic,” his voice cracks a bit, so you take a chance and reach for his hand. He lets you take it, giving you a squeeze, before continuing. “She was screaming, begging whoever it was to give Will back.”

Jonathan pauses again. You don’t say anything, because no words will help. He’s never been the type for comforting words, anyways. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t him. Lightning struck and our phone got charred. It wasn’t Will.”

Now it’s your turn to squeeze Jonathan’s hand. He doesn’t deserve any of this. None of the Byers do. Out of the entire town, they’re the family who deserves the most that life can give. Will, too good. Jonathan, too selfless. Joyce, too loving. They’re the best damn people you know.

“I tried calming her down, but she was hysterical. She’s only asleep right now because she worked herself up too much and passed out. I’m worried she-'' Jonathan shakes his head, as if ashamed by his own words. “I’m worried she’s going crazy, Y/N.”

He’s quiet again, but you can tell he’s about to break. His knee is now bouncing up and down and his breathing has become slightly ragged. Everything from today has been building up, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. You’re also worried about Joyce, a part of you skeptical to believe her, but the little girl you found tonight in the rain? Something was definitely weird about Will’s disappearance, but you’re hesitant to tell Jonathan just yet. For all you know, she could’ve simply been a girl who got lost and will be returned to her family tomorrow.

You don’t want to worry Jonathan any more than you need to.

“I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have taken that shift.” He gasps out, and like a dam the tears begin to fall. You’re quick to pull him into a hug and he crumbles into you. His body shakes with violent sobs and he clutches at you as if afraid you’ll leave.

“You can’t blame yourself.” You whisper, stroking a hand through his hair. He cries even harder, the force of it almost enough to knock you over, so you situate yourself so that you’re fully on the bed, laying against his pillows, with Jonathan crying into your chest beside you.

“He’s g-gone.”

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Your own tears threaten to come out, but you force them down. You have to be here for him, he needs you. The only other time Jonathan has so openly cried was when Lonnie left years ago. He’s been holding everything in since then, all those years of looking after his family, taking care of his brother, getting harassed by assholes like Tommy Hagan.

Neither of you say anything else, and you know that Jonathan needs to let it all out. You soothe him as best as you can, running a hand through his hair, stroking his back, reassuring him over and over again that none of this is his fault until your own voice becomes hoarse. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but sometime during the night Jonathan finally falls asleep, and you follow shortly after him.

—

Sunlight streams through Jonathan’s spare bed sheet that he’s pinned over his window, serving as a makeshift curtain, waking you up. You stretch, careful not to wake the boy beside you, and crawl out of the bed. You’re antsy, already knowing that today will be another long day. After grabbing some clothes from your designated drawer and getting dressed, you head into the kitchen and start making a quick breakfast. Just as you’re finishing up, Jonathan comes out of his room, dressed and ready for the day.

Neither of you say anything about the night prior, instead silently working around each other in the kitchen with years of practiced ease. He hands you the salt shaker right when you need it, you grab the pieces of toast that he popped into the toaster, the two of you never once get in each other’s way. You get deja vu, remembering all the times you’ve slept over with Dustin, you and Jonathan making the boys breakfast while they slept in.

The only indication that last night really happened is a forehead kiss from Jonathan, his lips soft against your head. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the touchy one, so it’s always a nice surprise when he initiates the touch, and his forehead kisses were a welcome rarity.

When the plates have been made, Joyce gets up from the couch and stumbles over to the table. You quickly help her sit down, and for the first time since Will’s disappearance you’re able to really look at her. She looks like Jonathan, only worse. The bags under her eyes are darker, her hair is more matted, and you believe she’s still wearing the same shirt you saw her in the night that Will went missing.

“All right, mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan tries to place her plate on the table, but Joyce stops him, worried about the poster of Will.

Jonathan gives you a look and you run over to the table, grabbing the poster so that he can set the plate down.

Joyce gives you a tired smile, “Thank you, Y/N, but I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, mom.”

“Jonathan’s right, Mrs. Byers. You need to eat, we gotta keep your strength up.” You feel like you’re talking to a child, but in a way, you suppose you are.

The woman lights a cigarette instead, and faintly you wonder how many she’s had within the last 48 hours; you’ll need to wash your clothes when you get home. She begins to ask Jonathan to go to Xerox to make as many copies of Will’s poster as possible. You sit down in front of her, silently eating, knowing there’s no place for you in this conversation.

It’s not that the Byers are ashamed that they have little money, but you know it’s rude to listen in. They make do with what they have, and Jonathan has never felt embarrassed with you knowing it.

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Joyce says, causing you to speak up.

“I’ll go with him and help hang them up, it’s no problem.”

Jonathan turns to you. “You have that chem test, remember? I’m not letting you miss that.”

“Shit…” you bury your face into your hands. You completely forgot about that after finding the little girl last night and dealing with Jonathan. You’ve heard about how impossible the chem exams were, and science has never been your best subject. That was Dustin’s thing, your thing was more humanities.

“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll ace the exam,” Jonathan reassures you before turning to his mom. “And I’ll handle the posters, it’s okay.”

Joyce has been lost in thought during your conversation with her son, only beginning to speak again when she’s asked how many copies will be efficient. Once she starts speaking again, it’s almost like she’s physically unable to stop. She begins to ramble, finally exposing the crumbling woman that you’ve only heard about, now understanding Jonathan’s fears for her.

“Mom-”

“If we… ten cents-”

“Mom!” Jonathan raises his voice a bit, now grabbing at his mother’s hand. “You can’t get like this, okay?”

The look on Joyce’s face kills you. She looks so lost, ashamed of her behavior, and you cast your head down; this is a private matter. Joyce profusely apologizes to him and all Jonathan can do is gently reassure her that it’s okay. All of this is okay.

Their tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the front door, revealing Hopper on the other side. His presence makes you uneasy, so you stay in the kitchen and begin to clean up with Jonathan while Joyce attacks him with questions.

“A little bit of trust here, alright? We’ve been searching all night.” You hear the cop say. Your hand clenches the sponge, rubbing a bit harder at the plate you’re cleaning. If they’ve been searching all night, why are they here now?

“Went all the way to Cartersville.” Ever since Will disappeared, you’ve been building a wall of hope within you that he’ll be found safe and sound. However, with every passing day, with every new situation that occurs, you can feel a piece of the wall collapse. You can feel it now; the search party went all the way to Cartersville.

“And?” Joyce asks.

“Nothing.” The cry that Joyce lets out causes you to drop the plate you’ve been cleaning, shattering on the floor. You curse, immediately bending down to pick up the pieces. Luckily it didn’t shatter into a million bits, but you still feel horrible for breaking one of their dishes.

Jonathan bends down as well to help, and the commotion catches Hopper’s attention. He sees you scrambling to clean up the mess and sighs with annoyance. “Does she live here or something?”

You and Jonathan look at each other, a slight smile on your faces, and only respond to Hopper with a synchronized shrug. You basically do live at the Byers’ at this point, you have been for years now. It was the same for Jonathan: if you weren’t at his house, he was at yours.

Joyce wipes some of her tears away. “Y/N is family, she’s here to help.”

Hopper ignores this, instead bringing up the phone call from the night before. Joyce leads him over to the phone, and you join them once you’ve collected the remaining pieces of broken glass. When you see the phone, you can’t help but gasp. Jonathan’s words from last night are accurate, the phone is charred.

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper says.

Joyce waves her arms out, disbelieving. “The storm? You’re saying that that’s not… weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper begins, but you cut him off.

“It’s really weird.”

He glares at you. You mumble a quick sorry and back away a bit while Jonathan asks if the call can be traced. Hopper focuses back on the situation at hand, informing him that it isn’t possible and then questions if Joyce even heard Will in the first place. The question makes you cringe, knowing it’ll only make Joyce more agitated and hurt.

“Flo said you just heard some breathing.”

It’s the way he phrases the question, the way he emphasizes the word “just”, that bothers you. This woman has just lost her kid, what kind of mother wouldn’t know her own child’s breathing?

“Even if it was ‘just’ some breathing, I’d know it was my brother. Will is her son, she’d know better than anyone.” You find yourself saying. The words weren’t meant to leave your mouth, but the appreciative look Joyce casts your way outweighs the fear from Hopper’s glare.

“It was him. It was Will, and he was scared. Then something-”

“It was probably just a prank call,” Hopper tries to reason with her, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You respect the guy, you do, but could he at least attempt to listen to Joyce?

You excuse yourself before you say anything else, heading back into the kitchen to collect the two posters you and Jonathan made. While the others talk, you grab his things and pack his bag for him. You know he’ll probably skip school today to get the copies done in time, maybe keep an eye on his mom, so you make a mental note to inform him later that you’ll help with putting the fliers up the second you’re done with the exam. He needs someone there for him.

When you’ve grabbed the last of Jonathan’s things, Lonnie’s name is mentioned. You freeze, standing right outside the hall from them, only a wall between you. If Lonnie is somehow involved in this, you’ll kill him yourself. He was always cruel to Will, even when you were around to witness it. You hate him more than anything in this damn world.

“It’s been long enough, I’m having him checked out.” Hopper declares, storming out of the house.

You count to three in your head, and the second you get to three, Jonathan is following after Hopper. You knew he would, hating his father the most out of everyone who has had the displeasure of meeting him. You follow behind him, heading outside to talk to the Chief.

“Hey, Hopper. Let me go.”

Hopper takes a drag from his cigarette, facing the two of you. “I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s,” Jonathan says, looking at you for backup.

You do your best to try. “If Will’s there, that means he probably ran away. Cops will scare the poor boy, he’ll think he’s in trouble.”

“And he’ll hide. He’s good at hiding.” Jonathan finishes for you.

Hopper stares at you both, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette and blowing it in your direction with a curious look in his eyes. “You two are sickening to be near, you know that?”

You and Jonathan share an annoyed look. A kid is missing, and you still have to clarify that you aren’t together? “It’s not like that,” Jonathan says.

“Sure, you know cops are good at detecting lies,” Hopper approaches him now, grabbing his shoulders. For a brief second you’re afraid he’ll hurt him. “And we’re also good at finding, okay? Stay here with your mom. She needs you.”

Hopper punches at Jonathan’s shoulder before facing you. “And you,” you brace for whatever he’s about to say, knowing you probably aren’t his favorite person at the moment. He points at Jonathan, “He needs you.”

His words hang in the air several minutes after he’s gone. You glance at Jonathan, but he doesn’t meet your eye and instead he goes back inside. You sigh, following after him because it’s what you do. Hopper’s right, he needs you.

Jonathan’s in the living room, speaking softly to his mom when you enter. You don’t disturb them but rather snatch Jonathan’s keys from the counter and wait for him by the door. Like Joyce said, Xerox opens in about thirty minutes and you have a chem exam to take. If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the copies with him and be back in time before school.

The ride to Xerox is tense, you know Jonathan is upset that he’s been sidelined by Hopper. You also know that he’s torn between wanting to help his mom and staying out of his house as much as possible. If it weren’t for your god damn chem test you’d offer to skip and hide out at your place, but you can’t. Jonathan wouldn’t let you risk your future for him (even though you would, in a heartbeat, a million times over).

The man at Xerox gives Jonathan a look of pity, clearly recognizing Will’s picture on the poster. It’s your favorite photo of him, smiling with all his teeth and happy as can be. From what you’ve heard, the whole town has been conducting search parties for him. Jonathan ignores the look and asks for the 200 copies to be made.

It’s just you and him in the store as you wait for the prints to be done. The guy said it’d be about a ten minute wait so you wander around the store. Jonathan clearly is in a no talking mood, so you occupy yourself with whatever you find. You wish you’d brought your backpack to Jonathan’s last night so you could at least study a bit while waiting, but you didn’t. It’d be a miracle if you pass this exam.

Jonathan wanders around as well, so you give a quick look around and find the employee. He’s standing over the printer when you approach. “I’d like to pay for the copies, please.”

“You can pay after they’re done-”

“No, I can’t let him see,” you point over to Jonathan, who is now looking at some stationary. “Please, just let me pay now so he can yell at me later.”

The guy gives you a shrug, clearly not getting paid enough to care. “Okay, it’ll be $20. Just leave the money on the counter over there, the prints should be done soon.”

You nod and do as you’re told, leaving the $20 bill on the counter while Jonathan isn’t looking. He can kill you later, right now you want to make up for not being able to help with hanging them up. There’s literally hundreds to get through, he can’t do that all alone.

When the posters are done and Jonathan collects them, you wish the worker a good day and then wrap your arms around him and use all your strength to drag your friend into the car. He doesn't fight back at first, too confused by your actions, and you’re almost out the door before he sees the man pocket the money and wave at you. The dots connect in his head and Jonathan begins to fight against you.

“Y/N, let me pay-”

“Nope. Not happening!”

“We both know I’m stronger-”

“Debatable, honestly, seeing as how we’re almost to your car.”

“Let go!” He tugs harshly as his arm, which you’ve got a secure hold on, causing you to stumble a bit.

You plant your feet more firmly against the ground and use all your weight to pull the boy forward. You’re a few feet away from the car, just one more solid pull should do the trick. “Stop fighting this, Byers. I’ve already paid-”

“Which you shouldn’t have!”

“Keep fighting and drop all the posters, I dare you.”

Jonathan looks down at the posters in his spare hand, realizing that you’re right. If he doesn’t give in soon, they’ll topple over. He lets out an agitated groan, throwing his head back, and then marches over to the car to unlock it and fling himself into the driver’s seat. “Just get in.”

You do a small victory dance and hop in the car.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

He hesitates only for a moment. “God, I hate that I do.”

You smile, buckling your seatbelt. Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive to school. He’s less tense this time, at least. The small little wrestling match between the two of you seemingly did some good, then.

When you pull up to school, you once again apologize to Jonathan for being unable to help. He waves you off, understanding.

“It’s okay, I promise. I can’t have you failing out of high school because of me.”

You roll your eyes. “One test won’t make me become a high school dropout, Jonathan.”

He ruffles your hair, which you slap him for. “You can join me after, okay? Good luck, bug.”

“Fine, but I’m taking some posters with me so I can hang up on my way to my locker.”

“Deal.”

You run to your locker, flinging it open and letting out a sigh of relief when you spot your chem cards. Honestly, you really should’ve prepared better for your little sleepover at the Byers. You glance at the watch on your wrist, noting that you have roughly fifteen minutes to memorize all the elements in the periodic table as well as some chemistry definitions.

Just peachy.

You tie your hair up so you can focus better and grab the note cards. If you review the cards as you walk to class, you can save at least three minutes of studying time. You tuck the few remaining posters of Will under your arm and begin to head to your class, getting absorbed in all the elements and words. As you’re skimming a card about protein being K, you run into Nancy and Barb, who also seem to have the same idea as you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Nancy greets you, Barb waving to you as well.

They’re being nice, so you try to make conversation. “Studying for Kaminsky’s test?”

They nod at you and Nancy sighs, “Yeah, his exams are the worst.”

You laugh a bit, for once on the same page as her. “I know. I spent last night at Jonathan’s, I completely forgot about the test until this morning. I’m screwed.”

Barb raises her eyebrows at you while Nancy suddenly looks sad. “Oh, I’m sorry about Will. I know you and him are close.”

“Yeah, it must be hard taking care of Jonathan right now.” Barb voices.

You give them both an awkward smile. “Thanks, I guess? It’s just, there’s still hope, so…”

The three of you stand there as your voice trails off. It’s painfully awkward. While you’ve known Nancy since you were 12, and at some point you even called her a close friend of yours, the second you entered high school she became distant. You never blamed her for it, people simply grow up and grow apart. Now you only ever interact with her if it concerns the boys.

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp.

“Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your cheat sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

His friends laugh, but Steve has a bit of heart to look guilty, so you count that as something. His shame doesn’t last long though and the goofy and sweet boy who made sure you were okay after almost hitting you with his car is gone.

Steve plays off the situation as if it were nothing. “Let me make it up to you, Henderson. I know you’re probably stressed out of your mind dealing with boyfriend troubles because of Bill-”

“His name is Will,” you grit out, remembering now why you dislike Steve so much. Everything was about impressing his friends, and while you can sympathize with him, it doesn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole.

“Right, Will. Anyways, I was just about to inform Nance over here that my dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, ya know, she doesn’t trust him.”

“Good call,” Tommy says, and you glare at him.

Steve carries on. “So, are you guys in?”

“In for what?” Nancy asks.

“No parents, a big house?” Carol says, as if Nancy is a giant idiot.

You feel bad for her being treated so poorly by her boyfriend’s friends, so you lean in and whisper, “A party, Nancy.” Then you look at Steve. “And no, I’ll pass.”

Steve pouts. “Can’t leave loverboy alone for a couple hours?”

You scoff, shoving the poster against his chest, using more force than probably necessary, but the satisfying grunt he lets out pleases you. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you sound jealous. Unfortunately, I do know you, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

“Meow,” says Carol as she and Tommy laugh.

You ignore her and push past the group to get to class. You’ve wasted enough time, you have to study. Steve lets you, hurt by your words, but tries to play it off, instead focusing his attention on Jonathan up ahead hanging up some posters. You both see him at the same time and as you start to approach him, you hear Steve and his group mock him.

“God, that’s depressing.” Steve says, and you’ve never wanted to hit a man more than you do right now.

You glance at Nancy, trying to convey your disappointment in her. She’s a nice girl, she shouldn’t be with an idiot like Harrington. Who the hell makes fun of a guy with a missing brother? Nancy doesn’t meet your eye, which pleases you. She should feel guilty.

As you near Jonathan, Nancy calls after you to wait up. You listen, mostly because you’re surprised she even followed, and together you walk up to him. “Hey, bee. I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

Jonathan looks up at your voice, surprised when he sees Nancy next to you. He gives you a look that you conclude is a what is she doing here? look and you can only shrug as if to say I have no clue how I ended up in this situation.

Nancy doesn’t see this exchange. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Jonathan responds, still confused.

Nancy looks at you uncertainly, but you refuse to leave. Screw your exam, if she even considers voicing her boyfriend’s opinions to Jonathan then you’ll personally see that she fails alongside you. “I just… I wanted to say, you know… I’m sorry, about everything.”

Oh, she’s being nice. You’re still unimpressed, but Jonathan motions to you to stop staring her down, so you reluctantly listen.

“Everyone’s thinking about you.”

You all turn towards Steve and his group, who are clearly listening in, and you snort at her words. “Right, obviously.”

“Y/N.” Jonathan warns.

“Sorry.”

“It sucks.” Nancy continues, and you have to give her some credit. You’re being a blatant bitch, but she’s still trying. You feel a bit bad now, which honestly makes you dislike her a bit more. Damn morals. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid.”

The bell rings, ending Nancy’s little monologue. “I have to go, chemistry test. Y/N, want to walk together?”

She really makes it impossible to be a bitch to her. “Sure, just give me a second.”

You lean close to Jonathan and lower your voice. “Good luck with your dad, bee.”

“How did you know I’d go-”

“Because of course you would. Now go, give him hell for me, will ya?”

Jonathan nods, relieved you aren’t pushing the topic. You know that Lonnie is a sore topic for him, for the entire Byers family, really. You only knew Lonnie for a year or so before Joyce left him, but you’ll never forget his spiteful words and the bruises that Jonathan tried to hide from you. He needs to do this alone, father and son.

You see Nancy watching, and just to spite her you kiss Jonathan’s cheek, relishing in the fact that she looks away, and you wish him luck once again before following her to class.

The test isn’t as bad as you’d feared, and the rest of the day goes by with relative ease. You don’t see much of Steve and his group and you’re thankful for that. Nancy also keeps her distance, no longer attempting to be all buddy buddy with you. A part of you feels bad about that, because honestly the thought of someone thinking you hate them makes you feel physically ill, but as long as Nancy is with someone like Steve, there’s not much you can do about that.

After school you stop by all of Jonathan’s classes and collect the work he’s missed over the last few days; he has enough to worry about, so you figured you could help do some assignments for him. It’s nothing unusual, truth to be told. There was a time you were out for two weeks straight due to the flu one year and Jonathan did every one of your assignments, so it’s about time you returned the favor.

Once you have what you need, you hang up the remaining flyers in your bag and begin your journey to work. You’ve used up all of your sick days helping the Byers, and while Mrs. Waters has insisted on letting you have more time off, you figured the distraction would be good for you. Jonathan will want some space after confronting his dad, and as much as you hated Lonnie, something told you he had nothing to do with Will.

Just when your shift is almost done, your coworker, this young kid named Alex who you’re honestly surprised can legally work, informs you that your mom is on the phone and wants to speak with you. You stack the remaining books in your hands and thank him, walking over to pick up the call.

“Hey, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie! I was just calling to tell ya that Dusty is at the Wheeler’s tonight for dinner, so my plan for ribs won’t work without him. I was wondering if darling Johnny could feed you tonight? I know the two of you have that little sneaky food game.”

Your posture, once slumped over and uninterested, now straightens out. Why the hell is Dustin having dinner at the Wheeler’s? They never do that. “Uh, sure mom that won’t be an issue.”

Your mom lets out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Jonathan! I’ve always liked him…”

Your mom may be the biggest Jonathan supporter you’ve ever met. “Yeah, he’s your favorite. I know,” you shift a bit to catch Alex’s attention, mouthing to him that you need to leave work early. “Hey, did Dustin by chance say how long he’ll be at the Wheeler’s? I can swing by and pick him up after my shift.”

“Oh, I think he’s staying the night there. He mentioned something about Mike not finishing his part of their little science project?”

They’re calling the little girl a science project now? Boys are so typical. “Oh, I see. Well, I gotta get back to work, mom. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Your mom wishes you goodbye and warns you not to be out too late. You hum, already trying to figure out the quickest route to the Wheeler’s house. You can’t say you’re surprised that Mike didn’t follow the plan, but you also can’t say you were prepared for this either.

Alex comes back with your boss and you quickly make up a lie about not feeling well. Mrs. Waters gives you a pitying look and tells you to go. You’re incredibly grateful for her, she’s like a grandmother to you and has always been so kind.

You quickly bike to Mike’s house, going over a grand speech in your head for the boys. Logistically speaking, you’re not sure if they can even harbor the little girl in his basement. Would it be kidnapping? Could kids even kidnap other kids? You aren’t sure and you definitely aren’t willing to find out.

You arrive at the house just as Nancy and Barb are pulling out of the driveway, presumably to Steve’s grand house party. They wave at you awkwardly and you don’t have it in you to wave back. You park your bike next to their doorstep and knock on the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wheeler asks after opening the door.

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could hang out with the boys tonight? Jonathan’s busy and I promised Dustin I’d help with their campaign.”

Mrs. Wheeler cocks her head at you. “But I thought there was a special assembly at the school for Will? Nancy and Barb just left for it.”

You feel your blood boil a bit. There was no assembly for Will at your school, and it was really damn low of Nancy to use his disappearance as a cover story for her stupid party. She’s known Will since he was practically a baby. You have no idea how someone could be so unaffected by a missing child, let alone one who has been at your house every damn weekend for years now.

“Oh, that!” You force yourself to remain calm; there isn’t time to snitch on Nancy, Mrs. Wheeler would only have more questions for you. “Yeah, I’m, uh, skipping it. Jonathan doesn’t want to go, so after he’s back from his errands I’m heading over to his place to, you know, comfort him?”

The woman stares at you for a second, trying to determine if there are any lies to your words. You’ve never been the best liar, but being the oldest Henderson child has unfortunately prepared you for being quick on your feet when needed.

“Well, come on then. They boys just went downstairs, and if you can please remind them to bring the plate of food back up here I’d really appreciate it.”

You thank Mrs. Wheeler and let yourself in. Her words have all but solidified your suspicions: Mike kept the girl.

When you descend the basement steps, it’s almost comical how the kids scramble to hide the girl like little cockroaches. They run around and Dustin screams something about covering her before the poor girl is being manhandled into a sheet as Mike screams at Lucas and Dustin to calm down.

“Guys! It’s just me! Jesus!” You shout, shoving past Mike to rush over to the girl and free her from the sheets. She looks more frightened than usual, but at least she’s alive.

“God, why am I always the one you push?”

You shush Mike, smoothing back the girl’s hair and offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember me, sweetheart?”

The girl nods and softly says, “Y/N.”

“Very good. I’m going to scream at my brother real quick, so why don’t you cover your ears for me so you don’t get too frightened?”

“Wait, what-”

The minute her ears are covered, you turn to Dustin and begin screaming. “Are you brain dead and not understand the words ‘tell me if anything weird happens’ or do you simply lack the appropriate empathy needed for a concerned sister?”

Dustin ducks his head in shame. “Y/N, look-”

“No! I’m all for helping you guys with your adventures and whatever, but Will went missing and then she appears and Mike,” you turn to him and he hides behind a frightened Lucas. “You said you’d stick to your plan. Now tell me, did you?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dustin looks no better as he cowers behind the others. Lucas simply shrugs, knowing that this would happen. You never, ever, yell at the boys; the few times you have in the past, all hell had broken loose.

“Y/N-”

“Zip it, Henderson. I’m so pissed off at you right now and if you want to make it to thirteen I suggest you keep quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you guys catch me up on what you’ve so sweetly kept hidden from me.” It’s worded as a question, but the boys know better than to deny you.

You sit on the ground so that you’re next to the girl and then motion for the three boys in front of you to start speaking. They look at Mike, giving him a nudge, and he hesitantly steps forward to begin speaking. “Her name is El.”

The girl, El, looks up at you and smiles. You return the smile and knock your shoulder against hers in a playful manner. “Nice to meet you, can I ask what El is short for?”

“Eleven,” she says, and you want to question the name further but the look on Mike’s face stops you. Now is not the time, you guess.

“El, she’s… different.” Mike continues, looking around nervously. He’s acting as if someone could break in any second and snipe you guys, and a part of you doesn’t doubt it can happen. “She has these powers, like, mind control powers.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself. El looks at you, looking unoffended, seemingly expecting this reaction. However, Mike groans at you. “Y/N, this is serious. She-she knows about Will.”

At this, your smile fades and you feel an overwhelming sense of hope take over you. You find your arms wrapping around El before you can control yourself and you give her a tight hug. She stiffens in your arms and you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I just… sorry.”

She laughs a bit, softly saying that it’s okay.

“Do you really know Will? Where he is?” You ask, almost too scared to say the words out loud. If she’s telling the truth… you shake your head in an attempt to dispel any false hope. You don’t know this girl, she could be lying.

Before El can say anything else, Mike speaks for her. “She does, but there’s bad men out there who want to hurt her. I think they’re after Will, too.”

You freeze. “Bad men?”

“Yes, this is why we didn’t want to tell you!”

“I wanted to tell her,” Lucas says, which causes Mike to glare at him.

You wave your arms at the two boys, breaking up their fight. “Mike, what do you mean by bad men? Honey,” you look at El, “did someone hurt you? Are you in danger? Should I call the police?”

“No!” All three boys shout at once.

You look at them, at the genuine fear in their eyes, and sigh, “Okay, if you can give me a good reason not to call the cops, I won’t.”

“Did you not hear the part about El having powers?” Dustin asks.

“Gee, Dustin. You’re right! It’s like her having powers is totally believable and reassuring to the situation at hand!”

“I can show you,” El speaks up.

You all face her now. “You can?”

She nods at you, getting up and grabbing your backpack that you threw on the ground when you walked in. She rustles through it while you and the boys look at one another. After a few seconds, El grabs one of your comic books and places it on the table. She looks at you and tilts her head, indicating for you to sit down next to her; you do as you’re told.

El straightens out your comic and then closes her eyes, going completely still. The air around you shifts and you can practically feel the static electricity encasing you; the hair on your arms stand up. The pages of the comic begin to flick up, fluttering as if someone is thumbing through them in rapid succession. You watch as the Spidey panels flash before your eyes, the pages flying faster and faster until it becomes almost frightening to be near. Then, once it gets to its last page, the comic flies up into the air and hovers for a few seconds, right in front of your face.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, your eyes wide.

Just as quickly as it began, the comic drops back onto the table. You look up at El and see that her nose is now bleeding, which rips you back to reality. The chair scrapes against the ground as you get up to help her, dabbing at the blood with a tissue that had been laying on the table.

“Do you believe us now?” Mike asks, a smug look on his face.

You gently wipe away the remaining blood from El’s face, looking her in the eye and directing your words to her. “I’m listening, sweetheart. What can you do to help us find Will?”

El smiles, pleased to have earned your trust, and you get the feeling that this little girl is the most powerful thing in all of Hawkins, maybe even the world. At her request, Mike places his DnD board on the table and arranges the pieces for El to use. She sits down and closes her eyes once more.

Lucas gives you a doubtful look. “What’s the weirdo doing?”

You flick his head, not enjoying the name calling. Honestly, you thought you raised these boys better than that.

El seems to accomplish whatever she was doing and picks up the wizard piece, murmuring, “Will.”

You feel your heart stop. Will always insisted on being the wizard whenever they played the game. He was Will the Wise, forever and always. El couldn’t have simply guessed that, and you know it’s her-

“Superpowers,” Dustin finishes your thought for you. The two of you exchange a glance and you notice the slight glee in his eyes. Under different circumstances, you’d also find this all pretty cool.

Mike sits next to El and begins to ask some questions about where she last saw Will. She gives him a look that you can’t quite decipher before swiping her arm across the table and spilling the pieces onto the floor. She then flips the board over, having it now face upside down, and places Will’s piece back down.

You knit your brows together, trying to follow along. El’s movements are methodical and carefully planned, being unable to find the right words due to her poor speech, and you try to piece together the information you’ve been given.

“I don’t understand,” Mike says, being extra gentle with El. You’ve never seen him so soft spoken before and you’re grateful at least one of the boys doesn’t view her as some monster. Which reminds you that you need to have a conversation with Dustin about respecting women, but for now you’ll hold off.

“Hiding.” says El.

He’s good at hiding, Jonathan’s words echo in your head.

“Will is hiding?”

El nods, now looking more nervous. You can tell that Mike is getting closer to information that she doesn’t want him near, which finally causes you to ask the question that’s been heavily on your mind. “From the bad men?”

Now El gives a slight shake of the head, and Mike presses on. “Then from who?”

Without saying anything, El places a second piece onto the board right in front of Will’s. It’s a piece you’re unfamiliar with, with two snake-like heads that loom over the small wizard piece. Whatever it is, you know it isn’t good judging the way Mike, Dustin, and Lucas look at each other in fear.

You turn to Dustin and whisper, “What’s that piece?”

Your brother puts his hands behind his head and sighs deeply, a new resigned look on his face. He looks as if he’s just aged thirty years, which you find a bit dramatic. “It’s the Demogorgon.”

“The Demo-what?” The name sounds familiar, but you can’t remember anything about it.

Mike looks at you and for once his voice holds no annoyance when he says, “There’s a lot we still have to catch you up on.”

–

Your head is spinning as you bike to Jonathan’s with all the new information you’ve just received. Demogorgons, magical vortexes, kids with damn superpowers. It’s all a lot for you to take in, and while you fully believe that El is something entirely different from a normal little girl, how can you be sure that it’s connected to Will? While his disappearance still confuses you, it’s illogical to jump to supernatural conclusions.

Dustin had begged you to let him spend the night at Mikes in order to keep talking to El, and you only agreed because you figured you’d be at Jonathan’s again tonight anyways. He’s been MIA all day and you’re worried as usual, but you made him and Mike swear to you that they’d stay put in the house. At least this way they’re in one place, so if they screw around they’ll be easier to find.

When you arrive at the Byers home you notice that Jonathan’s car isn’t in the driveway, which only confuses you further. Where the hell is he? You gave him all day to deal with Lonnie and cool off, trusting that he wouldn’t do anything stupid for twelve hours, and yet…

You fear he’s done something stupid.

You don’t have time to think too much about Jonathan’s absence because a frantic Joyce runs out the door screaming. She runs straight past you and into her car, and the house begins to light up like a christmas tree. You can hear The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go, a song that Will once had on repeat for three weeks straight, and you can feel the same static electricity in the air that you felt when El used her powers in front of you.

Joyce suddenly gets out of the car and spots you, pointing towards her house. “You see that too?”

You swallow. “Yeah,”

She nods, as if your confirmation is all she needs to determine her sanity, and then marches inside. You stand in the yard, motionless. You’re terrified, and after learning about El tonight, you don’t have it in you to discover any other supernatural beings in Hawkins at the moment. Sighing, you follow after the woman because Jonathan isn’t home and someone needs to talk her down from whatever panic attack the flashing lights have inevitably caused.

“Mrs. Byers-”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me there isn’t something,” Joyce waves her hands in front of her face, almost grasping at the air, “weird about all of this. That was Will’s song, the lights were flashing in Will’s room, something came out of Will’s wall-”

“Something came out of his wall?”

“Yes! I’m not… I promise I’m not crazy, okay? You saw it, please tell me you saw it.”

You bite your lip, now thinking about El. You swore to Mike you wouldn’t tell anyone about her, and honestly you’re not sure that you should tell Joyce about her right now. You’re still unsure if El is being honest with you, and you can’t just give the woman false hope for her son. It’d kill you if you were wrong about El. But seeing the lights, hearing the music, the thing in the wall… There’s something that she’s not telling you.

“Mrs. Byers… I’m not quite sure what I saw, but we just had a bad storm and it could be faulty wiring.”

Joyce slumps her shoulders, frustrated that you aren’t conspiring with her. You just… you can’t. Not yet. Not before you figure out what the hell El is doing in Hawkins. You refuse to worsen Joyce’s already chronic anxiety and paranoia; Jonathan would never forgive you if you fed into her delusions, but it kills you to lie to her.

“Look, I do think that something is weird about this entire situation, “ Joyce’s face lights up, but you’re quick to add, “however, there’s no proof. You, I mean-Mrs. Byers, you’ve seen things in the past. You’re stressed, and anxious, and all the other synonyms.”

The woman lets a few tears drop from her eyes, now embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I-I’m sorry, honey. I just-”

You grab her hand. “I know,”

Her smile is brittle, a ghost of the once beautiful smile she’d give you, and your heart breaks for her.

After your conversation, Joyce excuses herself to her room. She looks even more exhausted than before, so you leave her alone and hole yourself up in Jonthan’s room.

You glance at your watch and note the late hour; you’re starting to worry now. Jonathan didn’t mention anything besides Lonnie and the posters, so you don’t know what else he could be doing so late. He wouldn’t go searching for Will without you.

You wake up to Jonathan returning an hour or so later, apparently having fallen asleep while waiting for him.

“Y/N?” His voice is gruff and surprised.

You groan and rub your eyes. “Turn the light off, bee.”

He doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

The tone of his voice wakes you up a bit, making you sit up and look at him more clearly. His shoulders are tense, his eyes are hiding something, and his overall demeanor is hard to read. “I had something to tell you, but is everything okay?”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Y/N, this is my house, just… just get out.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re confused by his behavior, now starting to become a bit defensive and hurt by his dismissal.

“You can’t just let yourself in whenever you please.” Jonathan puts his camera on his desk, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jonathan, we literally have always let ourselves into each other’s houses whenever we please.”

He rolls his eyes at you and rips off his jacket, throwing it at you. “Get out!”

You catch the jacket before it hits you in the face. “What the hell, Jonathan!”

“Listen, I get that you think you’re a part of the family, but you’re not. You’ve been here for days now, it’s getting old.”

His words cut through you and leave vicious wounds against your skin. He doesn’t mean that, he can’t mean that. You and him were family. He’s never, ever insinuated anything less. He wouldn’t dare. Your Jonathan would never act like this to you, and the only time he’s ever been this cruel to you was when he accidentally dropped Lonnie’s last beer in the fridge and was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help; he’d shown up with bruises later that night.

Then it hits you. He did something, something that makes him feel guilty; he keeps glancing at his camera. You soften your voice, “Bee, what did you do?”

He whips around, now yelling. “Nothing! Just get the hell out of my house! It’s getting pathetic!”

You swallow back the angry tears that build in your throat. Fine. Whatever. Let him be a raging bitch after everything you’ve done for him these last few days.

“Fine, I will.” Grabbing your backpack you snatch the assignments you were supposed to give Jonathan and slam them against his chest. “Here’s all your fucking assignments, by the way.”

He seems to come back to himself, blinking away the anger and shame. “Bug…”

“You don’t get to call me that.” And with that, you don’t spare Jonathan another glance.

–

When you get home, the house is eerily quiet. Dustin is at Mike’s and your mom leaves you a note saying that she’s spending the night at your aunt’s. Great. Looks like it’s just you and Mews tonight then.

After everything that’s happened tonight, you never found time to eat dinner, and your stomach is loudly growling. You drop your stuff in your room and then reheat some leftovers, feeling like a pathetic child. You know that Jonathan didn’t mean what he said, but the words had come too easily to him to have just been a way to dodge his guilt. There had been some truth to them. Maybe you were pathetic for always fretting over him.

Dinner is quiet tonight.

You wait for the phone to ring, for Jonathan to call you and apologize, but the call never comes.

You’ve never felt so alone before.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #the thought of steve just taking will's missing poster and then being like oh shit was so funny to me i had to add it #also sad ending #sorry #but also not

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jelsah27 · 11 months

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imposter syndrome talked ab just some forewarning

In History Class

MC: *walks into class with a small smile on their face*

Deuce: Good morning, MC. You seem happy today.

Ace: Yeah what's got you all smiley?

MC: Well, Kalim and Jamil were at my dorm the other day. Kalim really wanted to know about foods from my world and Jamil tagged along for obvious reasons. At on point Kalim wanted to look at my room and he found my snap-out-of-it post-it notes on the wall.

Deuce: Snap-out-of-it post-it notes?

MC: Oh, yeah they help remind me that a lot of the problems I think I have aren't really as problematic as I think. Like "Every personality is a creation of experiences that make you you." or "My friends like me because I am me". You see a while ago I figured out that I have a bit of Imposter Syndrome.

Ace: A bit of what?

MC: Well, it's pretty much I feel like I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I'm not the gifted child everyone remembers or the smart person everyone seems to think I am. That if I can't hurry up and live up to everyone's expectations that they'll figure out I'm not as great a person they think I am and be disappointed and angry that all I am is an empty shell of who they believed I was and leave. Some times it will also come in the form of believing that my friends only want to be around me out of pity or that if I don't like what they like or want to do the same things as them then they will leave, even if they've reassured me they love me. I think the worst thoughts I ever got from it was when I started to believe that my personality was fake and that I didn't know why I was so different than the kid everyone liked. I started to believe that I had faked my personality from different shows, books, or even people to even have one.

MC: Honestly I didn't even realize it was imposter syndrome till someone else pointed it out to me after telling them this. I genuinely had no clue I was so disgusted with myself till I was talking with them about it and they pointed out that none of what I was saying was true, that everybody knew who I was and loved me as I am. I think I cried when they told me that.

Deuce: Prefect... I had no idea...

MC: It's alright, I've been learning to get better at combating it. Anyway, Kalim asked me about it and I basically told him and Jamil what I just told you. He then asked me what I'm doing to overcome it. So I told him about the main things that have helped. Reminding myself constantly that I am not fake or hiding who I am from people I love and who love me. Whenever I feel negative thoughts try to take over, think about one positive thing that I have done or something someone had said they love about me for every dark thought. If it gets to bad though, go to someone I trust and ask them flat out about those thoughts, it helps a lot. And twice a week I make a post-it or journal about one or two small things. Maybe a compliment someone gave me, or a task I completed. So every day or so since they've-

Jamil: *walks into the room* Prefect, here. I must get to class before Kalim catches something on fire I mean gets into trouble. Have a good day.*hands MC a small note and leaves the classroom*

MC: *smiling contently* It say 'Thank you for helping Kalim study yesterday great sevens know he needed it and your smile is unique'

Deuce: *getting out paper* If it helps you, I'll gladly join in.

Little bit of a rant u can skip I hope you enjoyed the post <3 Y'all I'm sorry I didn't mean to trauma dump but I really like the idea. But the story is true and I did cry (and it was in a restaurant) when my sis told me I was wrong and she knew who I really and she loves me. That our friends won't leave because all humans have opinions and we are allowed to clash. And that my personality isn't fake, that everyone's personality is what they've created themselves and that people add and take away from themselves all the time and work on parts of themselves they don't like to become better. That my brain was just being dark when there was many lights around me, waiting to be recognized. If any of y'all read this its just one side of imposter syndrome, there are a few versions and many levels of severity. I genuinely think you are awesome and perfectly imperfect the way you are!

Anywho thanks for reading!

#twst mc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola #deuce spade #kalim x reader #twst kalim #kalim al asim #twst jamil #jamil viper #imposter syndrome #jamil x reader #twst duece #deuce x reader

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reidbae · 7 months

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DAY 11: Wind Me Down — degradation w/sub!spencer reid

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

summary: You've been feeling stressed out at work as you and your team battle tirelessly to solve a case. When you get back to your hotel room after a long day on the job, you turn to Spencer to help you unwind.

pairing: sub!s2!spencer reid x dom!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: vaginal sex, unprotected piv sex (y'all know what i'm going to say.), praise, degradation (obv), use of my love before smut and miss during, reader calls spencer "baby," "honey," and "angel," hair pulling, choking

wc: 1.6k

a/n: SORRY this was so cut off, i literally am falling asleep as i'm writing this LMFAO but i hope y'all enjoy my half-awake writing anyways <3

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1

You were walking into the hotel room that you and Spencer were sharing for your ongoing case, shutting the door annoyedly behind you.

You and the team had been on a case in New York for the last two weeks now, and it was safe to say that you were already sick of it. Sick of the lack of progress, sick of the officers you were working with, sick of the pressure that was coming down on you and your team. Sick of it all.

It was 2 A.M., and you had just gotten back to the room after a date with the case, being the last one to leave. You tried to open the door as to not wake your boyfriend, who you assumed to be asleep, shutting it with little noise.

But it didn't matter, because a face met yours the second you walked into the room.

Spencer was sitting on one of the beds in the room, a book in his lap. His glasses sat on his face flawlessly as he looked up at you with a smile. "Hey, you," he said.

"Hey," you said in a bit of a confused tone, looking him up and down. You set your work bag down and crossed your arms as you asked, "What are you still doing up?"

"I can't sleep without you," he told you with a shrug, like the phrase was common knowledge. "So I just chose to read until you got back."

You smiled at him and shook your head, walking over to him. "And how many books did you get through?" you asked.

"Two. And a half, I guess, if you count this one," Spencer smiled, holding the book up for you to see. Spencer then moved it away from him, opening his arms up for you. "Come here. You look tired."

You quickly fell into his arms as he pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of him. Spencer ran his fingers through your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other.

"You need to stop working so hard, my love. You're going to burn yourself out," Spencer said in a bit of a worried voice. You sighed, burying your face into his shoulder.

"I know, it's just—" you began. But Spencer cut you off.

"You want to solve this case. I know. I do, too," he said, taking the words out of your mouth. "But you need to think about yourself, too. Just—Promise me you'll take a break at some point."

You nodded. As much as you didn't like to admit it, he wasn't wrong.

"I will. I promise," you said.

Spencer pulled back to smile at you, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. "Good," he grinned as he went on with rubbing your back. "Do you want to rest now? Or do you want to stay up for a bit?"

"Actually..." you said, trailing off with a smile across your face. Your hands went down to the hem of Spencer's joggers, tugging them before you even had time to think it through. "I had a little something in mind."

Spencer's face went pink immediately as he took note of what you were getting at, and he looked up at you. "O- Oh, really? And what would that be?" he asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

"You know how stressed I've been," you said lowly, beginning to press a few kisses to Spencer's neck, causing him to whine out above you. "I was thinking you could help me with that. Relieve me a little, you know?"

"Y- Yeah, I know," the genius stuttered out, pulling you closer to his body by your hips. "If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do."

"There's my good boy," you cooed with a smirk across your face. You didn't hold back from leaning in, crashing your lips onto Spencer's. His answer came in the form of his tongue, which quickly moved into your mouth.

You didn't waste time, pulling the white tee Spencer was wearing up and over his head. You ran your hands over his chest before attaching your lips to his again, moaning at the way his tongue felt as it moved with yours.

Sometimes, it was better to take things slow. Others, going fast just made it better.

And this was one of those times.

Spencer helped you to unbutton your work slacks, then pulled his joggers, and boxers, down and out of the way. The view you were met with was one of his long cock, that seemed to already be aching for you.

You smirked down at him, taking his dick into your hands as you shook your head. Spencer let out a small whine at the feeling, squirming a little under you.

"Already this hard, huh? It's been, what, five minutes?" you teased him, chuckling at the messy view of the man under you.

"I- I'm sorry," he said in a voice that was nearly begging you not to tease him about it. "You just have that effect on me, miss."

"Oh, believe me, I know, baby," you cooed, moving your hand up and down on him slowly. Spencer's eyes closed as you did. "I know how much of a slut you are for me. Aren't you?"

Spencer gave you a nod without looking back at you, holding back a groan as he said, "Y- Yes, miss, I am."

You moved up to your knees for a second to pull your slacks down fully before moving the tip of his dick to your cunt. You couldn't help but moan out at the feeling, your need being easily on display for Spencer as he saw how wet you already were.

"Y/N, what are you, fuck, what are you doing?" he asked in a confused voice, as several seconds had passed with him not yet being inside of you.

"Watch your language, honey," you said, pulling his hair a bit as a means of bringing him close to you. Spencer let out a small whimper, but didn't say another word. "I wanna hear you beg, baby, like the slut you are. Tell me how much you want me to fuck you."

Spencer's whines only grew more broken at your mean tone, but he was quick to comply, squeezing your hips as he said, "Please, miss. Please let me inside of you. I- I've been so good."

"Oh, have you, angel?" you teased him a little more, moving your hand down to cup his chin. You dragged him even closer. "I'm going to need more than that."

All the while, the head of his cock was still on your cunt, and as you moved his dick around even more, Spencer let out an annoyed sigh. "I just—Please, miss. I want to feel you so bad. I- I've been craving you all day."

"And what else?" you asked.

"I want to be your toy. I- I know you like that," Spencer whined. "Please, just—Don't leave me like this. I can't handle it," he huffed.

Feeling bad for the poor boy, you kissed his cheek, before whispering, "You won't have to, my good boy. That's just what I wanted to hear."

You lowered yourself onto his cock, letting out a low mewl at the feeling. God, was he big. Spencer's hands were on your hips again as you rode him, the both of your moans filling the room.

"You like that, huh?" you asked. You moved your hand up to settle on Spencer's neck, squeezing down. Spencer's glasses fogged up with his need as you did so, nodding eagerly.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Please, harder," he whispered.

You obliged him, squeezing down harder on his neck; Not enough to harm him, but enough so that he would surely feel it. Spencer's face was all the approval you needed to keep going.

"Look at how needy you are. How much of a slut you're being," you degraded him in a rough tone of voice, shaking your head. If there was any place to get out the anger you had built up over the last two weeks, this was the one.

You grabbed Spencer's face to turn it towards a mirror that laid above the dresser in the room. The view was pornographic, you on top of Spencer as you rode him, his lips wide open as a series of moans fell from it. "You see that, baby?"

Spencer shyly gave you a nod, looking down. "Y- Yes, I see it, miss."

"Yeah? And what do you look like?" you asked.

"A- A whore, miss," Spencer admitted, his cheeks flaring up in a blush at his own words. He turned his head away to look at you, gazing up at you with needy eyes. "B- But I'm your whore, miss."

You pressed kisses to his neck, your look one of approval. "Fuck, yeah, you are," you moaned.

Your high danced dangerously close a short while later, and Spencer, picking up on this, lowered a hand down to rub your clit to help you along. You buried your face into his neck, leaving hickeys on him wherever you could.

"Fuck, baby," you moaned out. "That feels so good. Keep going, just like that," you were saying without even thinking about it, your brain far too clouded with desire.

The room smelled like sex as you both came at the same time, Spencer filling you with him cum like he'd done so many times before. You lay limp on his shoulder as you came down from your peak, eyes closed.

"God, I love you," you told him breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Spencer chuckled at your words, settling his hands onto your waist.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid imagine #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

Worth the Risk - Part 1: The Dishwasher

bfd!Santiago "Pope" Garcia X f!Reader

Series Masterlist - AO3 LINK

Summary

You're visiting your home town on college break and you are staying overnight at your best friend's house. You never realized how attractive her dad was until that night. You wonder if he feels the same.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, forbidden relationship, reader is in her 20s, best friend's dad!Santi, Santiago is a dirty man y'all, not much else to say, smut, depraved, corruption kink

Word Count: 3.7k

Also, this tied in with a request from @romanarose <3 thank you bb for requesting!

“It’s been so long.” You said, wrapping your arms around your friend tightly.

You took in her smell, so happy to see her again after so much time had gone by. It had only been a few months, but it felt like years sometimes.

“I know!” She yelled in your ear before pulling back to look you up and down. “How have you been?”

You sighed, “I’ve been pretty good, wanted to make sure I came to see you for the night before going back to school.”

“I’m sorry about Cody.” She gave you a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine I-” you started, but then you caught her father out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey…!” Mr. Garcia said, coming up behind Maria with a smile

“Hey Mr. Garcia.” You said, wrapping your arms around him.

“How long is it going to take for you to start calling me Santi? Or at least Santiago?” He smirked. “You make me feel old.”

“You are old, dad.” Maria said, chuckling. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” Your friend grabbed your hand and tugged you along.

Goodness you’ve grown, Santi thought, watching you run off with Maria. Over the last couple years, since you’d started going to college, your schedule didn’t line up with the times Maria had been at his house, and he hadn’t seen you in a long time. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Maria’s room hadn’t changed since you last saw it. It was still pink and bubbly, matching her personality perfectly. You always thought she had the coolest window, fit with a reading nook and big sheer curtains. You sat down on her bed, dropped your duffle bag on the floor, and she went to her desk, opening her laptop. She put on some pop music in the background and then turned to you.

“So, spill it, what happened with Cody?” She asked, giving you a devilish smirk. “Tell me all the dirty details. I wanna know how you fucked him over.”

You rolled your eyes. “I already told you over the phone. He cheated on me.” You sighed, “can we please just not do this right now? I…I don’t really wanna talk about him. He’s a loser.”

“With his ex? What’s her name?” You watched her open a browser and get onto her social media account.

“I really don’t want to do this Maria, can we just forget about it? Please?” You begged.

She looked at you, her eyes said she was ignoring your request to stop and wanted you to tell her anyway, but eventually she gave up, closing the browser.

“You’re so boring. Fine.” She groaned. “So other than that, what have you been up to?”

You told her everything you’d done over the last few months. You talked about your parents, any cute professors you had, and new friends you’d met. The conversation moved on to her talking about a new guy she met at her school. She’d stayed more local than you had, but you were only a few hours away. She then told you about how she was madly in love with him before she got on talking about how annoying her father could be.

“You know how he is. When the guy came over for dinner the other night dad got all, you’d better take good care of her.” She scoffed. “He’s such an old man.”

“He just worries about you.” You reminded her. “And he’s not that old. My dad is old.” You chuckled. “Your dad is like forty.”

“Yeah.” She said looking at you incredulously, “old.”

“Girls! Come on down, it’s time for dinner!” He called up.

You followed Maria down the stairs and to the kitchen. Santi always made the best meals when you would come over during your high school days, and now was no different. You sat down to his right and thanked him for dinner, a soft smirk spread across his lips. You took a sip of your water.

Santiago tried to keep his eyes on your face, but your tank top left little to the imagination. Weren’t you too young to be dressing like that? No, of course not, you were an adult now. His throat bobbed when he gulped, blinking and trying to peel his gaze away from the beautiful way your breasts pushed together. Were you even wearing a bra? Did he forget to turn the heat up?

“Dad?”

You saw Santi visibly jump when he looked over at Maria. Had he been staring at you? You didn’t realize until you looked up and thought you’d seen his eyes on you. Heat rose to your cheeks.

“Yeah baby?” He asked, raising his eyebrows toward Maria.

“Can you pass the butter?” He sucked in a deep breath, “yeah, here you go.” He handed it to her. “So…” he said your name, “Maria tells me that you’re going through a breakup?” He raised his dark brows when he looked at you.

“Um…” You felt awkward talking about it in front of him. You didn’t know why she always had to make your business everyone’s business. “Yeah. I’d rather not talk about it though.”

“Those boys your age are the worst. Trust me.” He bit into his food, and you did the same.

You smirked, “yeah, I think the next guy I date should be someone older. I’m sick of boys.”

Santi almost choked on his food, having to remind himself to chew before he swallowed his piece of steak whole. He passed a glance at you, your eyes met. You could see what was happening. It had never occurred to you, having an interest in your best friend’s dad, but he was very handsome. You licked your lips before breaking eye contact and looking back down at your plate.

Maria took the conversation away, going on about her new business class, which she hadn’t had a chance to tell you about earlier. Neither you or Santiago were listening. You were thinking about this weird feeling you had. You’d never thought about him like that before, but now you were remembering all the times you’d seen him at the pool, or coming out of the shower with nothing but a towel around his waist.

Mr. Garcia…

At some point during the meal, you looked over and noticed Santi looking at you, and you quickly looked away, not sure what he was looking at you for. There was no way that he felt the same, right? This was just a silly crush forming, nothing serious. This was one of those things that young adults did right? It was just foolish.

You gulped down some more water, trying to clear your thoughts, but then clumsily dropped it on the table, and the water trailed off into Santi’s lap.

“Shit.” You muttered, grabbing your napkin and quickly rushing over.

You had been so worried about the fact that you spilled the liquid on him, that you didn’t think about how inappropriate it probably was to be patting your friend’s dad’s thigh. Santi was in shock, sitting there immobile at your quick hands patting over his lap in repetition. His thoughts were dirty, filthy even. You were so sweet, not realizing the effect you had on him at that moment.

All at once you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and you dropped the towel in his lap.

“I’m-uh-I’m really sorry.” You stepped back, finally realizing the awkwardness you’d caused.

“No it’s…” He caught your gaze with an intense stare. “It’s fine.” His eyes lingered on yours for a second too long before he looked back down at his lap. “I’m gonna go change.” He dropped the towel on the table.

“Mr. Gar-I mean, Santi, I’m really-”

“It’s fine, it’s just water. Maria, clean up please.” He stood up and rushed away quickly.

He ran to his room and slammed the door behind him, pressing his back to the wall. His breathing was staggered and heavy. He locked the door and unbuttoned his wet pants. When you’d spilled the water and then rushed over, pressing your hands and towel to his thigh, you’d brushed up along his cock. He always thought you were a pretty girl, but he also always stopped it at that. Any further thought would have been downright inappropriate.

He couldn’t help himself now though. He pulled down his boxer-briefs and jeans and stepped out of them. His cock was aching, standing erect, already leaking from the head. His hand fisted around it. You’d hardly touched him, but then again, it had been so long since he’d felt anyone’s grip besides his own. He spit into his hand, lubricating his palm so it would glide over the length of his member. For a second he thought about you, and how much he’d love to feel you-

“Fuck.” He said to himself alone.

He removed his hand from himself, and stood there for a while letting his cock soften. He couldn’t go on thinking like that. He couldn’t possibly imagine himself jerking to completion at the thought of his daughter’s best friend. Yes, you were an adult, but you were so much younger than him, it wasn’t right. He couldn’t bear what his daughter would think\ if she found out. She would hate him. Not to mention, a girl like you, who looked the way you did, probably wouldn’t even be interested in someone like him, nevermind the fact that he was your friend’s dad.

“I’m gonna go check on him.” Maria said to you when Santi had been gone for quite some time. “Do you mind putting the dishes in the dishwasher? You can come up to my room when you’re done.”

“Yeah sure.” You said, starting to clear the table.

He was changed and in the hall by the time Maria came up. He asked where you were, and she told him you were loading the dishwasher. All too eagerly, he trekked down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. He was prepared to tell you that you didn’t have to finish and you could go right up to hang out with Maria, but when he saw you, or rather, your prominent rear, he couldn’t speak.

You were bent down, the bottoms of your cheeks were peeking out through the hem of your shorts. He ran a hand over his mouth while he stared shamelessly at you. The work he’d done to focus his cock into softening was all for nothing now. You were really testing his self control.

When you spun around, you saw Santi standing there. He jumped nearly five feet when you saw him, and you did the same. You grabbed the kitchen counter and breathed heavily.

“Jesus, Santi, I didn’t see you there.” You chuckled nervously. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He chuckled too, “likewise. You don’t have to do that, the dishes, I can finish up. Maria always finds a way to get out of doing the shit I ask her to.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem.” You said turning back around, slowly bending over and then standing to lift the dishwasher door closed. You were playing with fire. “Just tell me what button to-”

You felt his chest nearly touching you. He was close enough that the fabric of his shirt could be felt on the back of your bare arms. He reached over from behind you and pushed the buttons on the dishwasher to start it. You turned around, Santi was standing close to you. Your heart was thumping in your ears, deafening you.

Santiago looked down at your perfect chest, tits perky, nipples nearly grazing his shirt. You leaned in, he started leaning too. His fingers brushed over your cheek and he reached his hand behind the back of your head.

You heard your name called over the top of the stairs, “...are you coming?”

Santiago let out a sigh of defeat, and so did you. He dropped his arm to his side.

“I-I’d better go.” You breathed heavily, staring up at Santi’s eyes for a second before skirting around him and heading to the stairs.

What the fuck are you doing Santi? He asked himself.

Just ten minutes ago he had given himself a pep-talk about letting those thoughts go. When he saw your delicious ass on display when he came down those stairs though, he’d lost all semblance of reason. This wasn’t like him, but…you were looking at him like that, you were bending over like that.

Your brain was a mess while Maria rambled to you. You thought you were out of your mind when you scrambled to clean the water off of Santi’s lap at dinner and he looked into your eyes. You’d thought for sure that you made up the connection he had with you, but now you were certain. He was into you. There was no other reason for him to have been staring at you like that right? If he had just come down the stairs, he wouldn’t have jumped when you turned around, he’d been looking at you. Further, he had no reason to come up behind you like that to start the dishwasher, chest brushing against your spine. He’d leaned in, almost kissing you, right?

There was only one real way to confirm. It was eleven on the dot, and Maria was snoring to your left. You silently got out of her bed and left the room. You couldn’t be so bold as to go knocking on his bedroom door, you had to be more careful than that. Your throat felt a little dry, so you thought about getting a glass of water.

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this in the hopes that Santiago Garcia, your best friend’s dad, would come down there and fuck you senseless. Surely you were mistaken. The more you thought about it, the more foolish it started to sound. That is, until you had a half full glass of water and a daring hand snaking around your hip.

He’d heard you sneak from Maria’s bedroom, and hoped that by making his move you wouldn’t scream or push him away. It was possible that you were into it, that you were just as desperate as he was. If that were the case, it wouldn’t be hard to just keep this little thing a secret, if that’s what he had to do to have you, even if only for one night.

“Having a hard time sleeping?” He asked, lips against your neck.

You gulped, letting out a short breath. “Y-yes.” You said softly.

His cock was pressing against your rear in a gentle churning motion, just enough to feel some friction. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. Part of you was still trying to comprehend that this was real, and that your friend’s dad really wanted you. When you thought about him, his eyes, his lips, he was so good looking, you realized that you really did want him. That’s why you went down there in the first place, right? You put the glass down on the counter and gripped the granite surface for support.

“You can push me away. I know this is wrong.” He whispered.

“Mr. Garcia…” You said breathlessly.

All the times he told you to call him Santi, he had done it for Maria’s sake. He always loved hearing you call him Mr. Garcia. Maybe it was some weird kink in his head, but it made his cock pulsate with a fierce need whenever you said it.

His hand, large against your abdomen, trekked down into your shorts, you were soaked. He circled over your clitoris. You’d never been with someone his age, but you’d heard that older men knew what they were doing. His left hand reached up and cupped your breast.

“Did you forget your bra sweetheart?” He continued his circling motion around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“N-no, I…oh…I didn’t wear one on purpose.” You said in a playful tone.

He snickered, “of course you didn’t, such a tease.”

He rutted his hips against you. There was still part of him telling him how wrong this was, but it felt so good he couldn’t stop himself. His middle finger slipped into the folds of your cunt, immediately drowning in the juices that had been leaking there since putting the dishes away. The way he kissed your neck, and the way his finger worked into you made you wish you’d slept with more men his age.

“You really know what you’re doing…” You said in between your needy panting.

“Yes, hermosa, I’ll take care of you.”

You threw your head back against his shoulder and gripped the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles ached. His lips latched on to your throat, sucking the skin there tenderly. You felt another one of his thick fingers slip into your hole, pumping in and out of you. You were trying to keep yourself from making too much noise, but it felt too good.

“Sh, you want us to get caught?” He said through clenched teeth.

“No Mr. Garcia.” You managed to choke out.

“Then you’d better learn to keep that pretty little mouth quiet cariño.”

He was fingering you fast now, so fast that you were struggling to hold on to the countertop anymore and so you let go, allowing his strong arms to keep you in place. You felt full, but not full enough. You wanted more. You needed more.

“I want you to fuck me Mr. Garcia, please.” You begged. “Fuck me.”

Though he was thoroughly enjoying fingering you, he was glad you said something, because he was seconds from losing it in his sweats, and he would rather lose himself in your sweet cunt. He turned you around to the island counter and bent you over the granite. You quickly pulled your shorts down around your thighs, and you felt his thick cock as he wasted no time readying it at your hole.

“Are you sure about this sweetheart?” He asked, holding the head there at your entrance.

“Yes, please, I need it.” You said desperately.

“It might hurt a little, just say something if it does, ok?” He pressed a hand over your back and then pushed himself through until his hips were flush against your rear.

You reached and grabbed the other side of the island counter for stability.

“That’s a good girl, just hold on tight like that.” He brought both of his hands down to land a bruising grip on your hips.

“S-Santi.” You moaned, “You’re so big, holy-”

It wasn’t painful, and it felt good to have him gliding over your walls. He looked down, reveling in the way your hole split over his cock. He grunted, thrusting into you, his skin slapped against your rear. Nothing had ever felt like you did, so warm, so tight, it didn’t even matter to him that you were his kid’s friend anymore. He just wanted to hear you screaming his name until you could hardly breathe.

“Fuck, cariño, you have such a nice little pussy. So wet and ready for me. Have you been thinking about me all night?” He said in a whisper between his deep moans.

“Y-yes.” You admitted. “I wanted to feel your cock Mr. Garcia.”

“Of course you did sweetheart.” His thrusts were getting faster. “Is that why you bent over doing those dishes like that? Huh? Were you hoping your best friend’s dad would come down the stairs and catch you shaking your ass like a little tease?”

“Fuck, yes.” You felt your core heating as your climax closed in.

“You’re such a naughty little girl, gonna fill you with my cum sweetheart.” His thrusting became jagged and stuttering, and his breathing turned into hushed grunts as he started to shoot his hot ropes into you.

“Yes…” You said, feeling your own orgasm peak.

You gushed over him, cunt squeezing the life from his hard length. It was hard to keep quiet, despite knowing you should. Maria was right upstairs and as long as she was still sleeping, she wouldn’t have heard your whimpering cries while your pussy contracted over her dad’s thick cock. She wouldn’t have heard your cracked voice say his name like a prayer while your knuckles strained over the countertop.

He stepped back, letting his cock and cum spill out of you. You heard some shuffling and then felt him using a towel to clean your cunt and your thighs.

“Squeeze it out for me sweetheart.” He demanded.

You did, feeling gobs of hot white ejaculate falling out into the paper towel Santi held between your thighs. Your legs were still shaking while you held on to the granite tightly. You couldn’t believe you had actually done that with him. It’s not like you hadn’t had the opportunity to do it many times during visits before, this time was different though, this time he had been so bold and desperate. He was irresistible.

“There’s a good girl.” He said as he finished cleaning you up.

You pulled your shorts up and turned to him. His face was flush with color, curls disheveled. He placed a soft kiss on your lips. His eyes looked at you with a near drunken hooded gaze. You wished that you could be held now, even for a few moments before having to leave, but you knew your time together was over, for now.

“Run to bed now.” He said.

When you turned, you were met with a quick smack on your rear before you bounded over the stairs to join your friend in her bed once again. You could only hope, with breath-stilling anticipation, that you would get to spend more time with him again some day.

Part 2

Triple Frontier Masterlist

bfd!Santi Masterlist

AO3 LINK:

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @in-between-the-cafes

#triple frontier #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #santi x reader #santiago #garcia #santiago garcia x you #santi garcia x reader #santi garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #santi garcia smut #bfd!santiago garcia

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indestructibleheart · 2 months

Text

Hi, fam! Okay, so I'm going to be out at an appointment tomorrow morning, so I'm kicking this off a little bit early. It's technically Wednesday in several timezones and very nearly Wednesday in mine. I'm... also a bit eager to share this, ngl.

I know that I've shared a lot of angst lately, but I swear that's not all I'm doing. 😅 In fact, the actor/playwright AU decided to wallop me in the face out of nowhere after sitting in my WIP folder for months. I'm really excited about it, so I'm gonna share the first scene!

(Also, those of you who have been to New York with me will recognize my favorite brunch spot in this scene lmao.)

---

You probably didn't even know I was in the room, but I noticed you straight away. You were talking with your friends, happy and animated and fully alive—a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access—and so beautiful. Your hair was longer then. You were the center of attention, but you weren’t afraid. You had a yellow ipê-amarelo in your pocket. I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen; I'd better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire.

INT. MOM'S KITCHEN & BAR - HELL'S KITCHEN - LATE MORNING

"I'm telling y'all," Alex is saying, punctuating with dangerously large bites of his pancake burrito. "The dude's a dick."

It's been two hours since the nightmare audition, but Alex has been on this tirade since June and Nora first slid into the retro diner chairs across from him (at least forty-five minutes ago).

They're at Mom's: a restaurant-bar in midtown that can only be described as millennial nostalgia incarnate. The trio fell in love with it two years back—post-karaoke, stumbling in right before closing—when Alex saw God in their Fruity Pebble pancakes. Since then, it's been his favorite place to eat his feelings.

Mom's is just really fucking comforting in general, honestly; whether it's the televisions cycling through episodes of 'Rugrats,' 'Dexter's Laboratory,' and 'Hey, Arnold!' or the rainbow straws and Lisa-Frank-looking menus, Alex can't be sure. It doesn't hurt that they've made friends with several of the waitstaff, including an eccentric bartender, Pez, whose pink hair and painted nails fit right in with the decor.

Today, it's the combination of breakfast sausage, bacon, eggs and cheese wrapped up in a syrup-soaked pancake that's really doing something for him. It could also be the margarita the size of his face, which Pez placed in front of him before making himself uncharacteristically scarce. But it's fine. He's probably just busy.

Alex won't admit it out loud, but what really helps is having June and Nora here to talk to… even though Nora is scrolling on her phone.

"I'm sorry," June says. She pokes an ice cube with her straw, and Alex watches as it bobs around her mimosa like a buoy. "That sounds like it sucked, but if he's really that rude… maybe you didn't want to work with him anyway."

Nora doesn't look up as she pops a home fry into her mouth.

"Several sources say he's difficult to work with," she adds, evidently reading about Henry on the internet. "Though, in his defense, his dad did just die, like, three years ago… and there was that whole thing when he came out after. Remember?"

Alex does remember. Henry's grandmother, Mary Mountchristen, runs a pretty major company that used to own half the theatres on the West End. When Henry came out last year, she tried blacklisting his shows from her properties to punish him—which totally backfired when it got around. At least a dozen other queer writers and producers started talking about how they were also denied the space, and Mary was stoned on the streets of the theatre district. Like, metaphorically.

Alex, Nora, and June had just moved to New York, but between June's position at Newsday and both Alex and Nora on the audition circuit, it was all anyone in their new circles could talk about. They were some of the first to know when the Mountchristens were bought out of their properties and Henry moved to the States.

This show is the first of Henry's being produced here—and it's autobiographical, which Alex has to admit is pretty fucking baller. So, yeah, Nora's not wrong. He has reason to be standoffish. Still, it doesn't explain why Alex was only halfway through his audition monologue when Henry abruptly stood up and exited stage left as if pursued by a bear.

He shoves another forkful into his mouth. "It's just, like, they're the only people who let me into the room," he says, barely finishing chewing. "Nobody wants to take me seriously, and I really thought this was my shot, you know?"

June and Nora both know Alex is having a hard time landing serious roles after growing up on a sitcom—Nora more than most, as his former co-star. What they don't know is that losing this role, specifically, feels like a kick to the stomach. From the moment Alex saw the script, he wanted to be a part of it. He can't even explain why, and now he'll never figure it out. Henry wouldn't give him a chance.

"It wasn't your only shot, and you know it." Nora fixes him with a look. "Seriously, I get it—I do—but it's just one play, buddy."

June nods. "Something will happen for you, baby brother."

At that, Alex finally groans. "Okay, calling me baby brother doesn't help me feel better about the entertainment industry infantili—"

"—itty bitty, teeny weeny—"

Alex throws a home fry at her face.

It bounces off her forehead and into the giant gauntlet holding her mimosa with a very unappetizing splash. Just as Alex throws his hands into the air with a victorious whoop, his phone buzzes on the table.

A glance is all it takes for him to see that it's his agent, Zahra.

"Damn," he says, deflating. There goes that upswing. "You answer it."

June balks. "Me?"

"I don't need to hear how fucking badly it went. Trust me, I got the message." Alex blinks innocently, like he's six years old again, asking her to lie to their mom about that broken vase. "Please, Bug? Besides, Zahra actually likes you."

"Everyone likes me." June rolls her eyes, but she caves—answering the phone with a haughty, "Alex Claremont-Diaz's office," before breaking into a smile. "Yeah, Z. It's me… No, Alex is feeling a little sensitive today."

(He throws another home fry at her. This one misses.)

To her credit, June's face remains totally blank as Zahra no doubt tells her how Alex insulted Henry Fox's name and all of his inbred ancestors just by showing up, or whatever—which is extremely annoying and unhelpful—but, once she says goodbye and sets the phone back down on the table, her face breaks out into a grin.

"Guess you didn't suck too bad," she says. "They want you for the part."

He doesn't know if it's Nora throwing herself at him or the shock that knocks him onto the floor.

Tagging some lovelies. If you haven't been tagged and you want to be, consider this your tag!

@anchoredarchangel, @barbiediaz, @cha-melodius, @cricketnationrise, @guillermosfamiliar, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @hippolotamus, @inexplicablymine, @jettestar, @junebugclaremontdiaz, @kiwiana-writes, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @missgeevious, @mulderscully, @myheartalivewrites, @ninzied, @nontoxic-writes, @notspecialbabe, @priincebutt, @rmd-writes, @rosedavid, @three-drink-amy, @treluna4, @vanillahigh00, @welcometololaland, @orchidscript, @ships-to-sail, @stereopticons

#wip:snippet #m:wip #fic: breaking character

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fluentmoviequoter · 10 months

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The Freak and The Princess (II)

Summary: Eddie lets you walk by during his rant in the cafeteria, stumped by your quietness and manners toward the town freak. He then decides to be the perfect gentlemen. [Part 2/5] 1.7k+ Words

Warnings: blood and stitches, flirty best friend Steve Harrington?, but other than that none that I know of!

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love y'all showed Part 1! I feel like I should call this Part 1.5 because Eddie isn't in much of it but it is setup for an eventful Part 3. (Apologies for any inconsistencies in the formatting, I’m uploading from the mobile app and I'm planning to review it later.) I edited this and proofread it, but please point out any errors or things that you like! And please send requests; all the characters I write for are under my tag #characters! Hope you enjoy! :) Part I

The Freak and The Princess

Part Two: More of a Prince

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Eddie said, opening the door of his van for me.

“Eddie, you really don’t have to drive me to school every day. It’s a 10-minute walk, I can manage.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’d prefer knowing you’re safe,” he said, more serious than I’d heard before.

“Thanks. For chauffeuring me everywhere and for the milkshakes.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

He waited until I was safe inside to pull out, waving as he drove away. I put my things away and collapsed on my bed, groaning as my phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey, babe. We have a slight problem. Are you busy?” Steve asked, slightly out of breath.

“Russian soldiers slight or Dustin fell off his bike slight?” I questioned, sitting up.

“The second one. There was an accident and there is a lot of blood, and I don’t really know what to do.”

“Where are you?”

“Hawkins High. Back parking lot. Thank you,” he said before hanging up.

“What did you get into, Steve Harrington?” I whispered as I grabbed my purse and started running toward the school. I turned the corner into the back lot, seeing Dustin and Lucas lying on the blacktop, laughing weakly.

“Steve?” I called as I approached.

“Oh, thank you,” he mumbled, jogging toward me. “They were playing some game and got spooked by something, I think? They won’t really tell me what happened, and they won’t let me take them to the hospital.”

I nodded, handing him my bag and kneeling by them. I noticed that most of Dustin's blood was from a gash below his hairline.

“Steve, I need something to stop the bleeding. Is there any cloth in my purse?” I heard him open it before handing me a white shirt. “Sorry, Eddie,” I thought before pushing it against Dustin’s head. “Hold this here, keep firm pressure,” I instructed Dustin before turning to Lucas. “Where are you hurt?”

He held up his arm, a deep cut spanning his forearm.

“Steve?” I asked, looking up at him. “He needs stitches.”

“No hospitals!” Dustin and Lucas yelled.

“Fine, fine,” I said, thinking. “Can you get us into the school, Steve?”

“Let me go check the doors. If they’re locked, I can’t, not without breaking in anyway,” he said before running toward the building.

“What happened?” I asked Dustin.

“You can’t tell Steve,” he said. I nodded, and he started talking again, “We were playing a new game that Eddie showed us, I don't remember the name of it. Neither one of us realized Jason and his goons were here until they came out and started hitting us.”

“Jason Carver did this?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Lucas said slowly, watching me from the corner of his eye.

I clenched my jaw, looking back to the building to see Steve running back, shaking his head.

“I have the stuff to do it at my place, can you drive them?” I asked.

Steve nodded, helping Dustin up and into the car as I did the same with Lucas. I had one side of my shirt pressed against his arm to stop the bleeding.

“Dustin gets shotgun,” I said, climbing into the back with Lucas to keep pressure on his cut. His blinks were getting heavy. “Stay awake, Lucas, talk to me about your D&D Campaign, basketball, anything.”

He launched into a speech about the current campaign, not stopping until we got to my house and climbed out of the car. We got them into the house and sat them down at the dining table.

“Steve, get towels and the first aid kit. Both are in the closet in the hallway,” I instructed.

He returned quickly with the first aid kit and a handful of towels. He pressed one of the towels against Dustin’s head, tossing the Hellfire shirt into the kitchen sink. I laid a towel under Lucas’s arm, pulling the alcohol and stitching supplies from the first aid kit.

“This is going to hurt, Lucas,” I said gently, kneeling beside him, “if you feel like you’re going to pass out, don’t fight it, ok?”

He nodded, and I poured the alcohol on his arm, grimacing as he yelled in pain. I started the stitches, noticing that he lost consciousness after the fourth one.

“Dustin, stay awake, man,” Steve said to Dustin. “What does he need? The bleeding stopped.”

“I don’t think he has a concussion, but we need to be careful. Just put a bandage on his head and we’ll keep an eye on him. If he falls asleep, just make sure to check on him and wake him every hour or so.”

Steve placed a bandage on Dustin’s head, tossing two bloody towels into the sink. He helped Dustin to the couch before filling the sink with cold water and hydrogen peroxide. I put the last stitch in Lucas’s arm, the twelfth one. I replaced the towel under his arm with a clean one before wiping off the excess blood and wrapping it. Steve carried him to the couch before coming back to the dining room.

“Thank you,” he said, picking up the loose first aid kit supplies and placing them back in the box.

“Of course. Glad they’re ok.”

“Mind if we crash here tonight? I’ll take them home first thing in the morning.”

“That’s fine. You can take the guest room if you want.”

Steve nodded, thanking me again. The doorbell rang, and I looked at Steve, who shrugged and followed me to the door. I looked through the peephole, relaxing before pulling the door open.

“Whoa! What happened?” Eddie asked as he saw me, stepping across the threshold and gently grabbing my face.

“Dustin and Lucas got hurt,” I whispered, tilting my head toward the couch. He looked over, saw the bandages littering their bodies, then saw Steve standing behind me.

“You ok, man?” Eddie asked him, pulling away from me and closing the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wish I’d been there when they got hurt. They won’t tell me what happened. I’m gonna head to bed though, we’ll be out of here first thing.” He walked down the hall, and Eddie turned his attention to me again.

“Let’s get you cleaned up?” He phrased it as a question, giving me an out.

I nodded as I grabbed his hand and led him to my bedroom and attached bathroom.

“Swanky digs,” he said as I grabbed some clothes and set them on the vanity top. He grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap from my shower, setting them by the sink. “You change, and wash any blood off your skin, then let me know when you’re done.”

I stepped into the bathroom, pulling the bloody clothes off and washing with the washcloth as I went. I opened the door, carrying my bloody clothes to the kitchen and adding them to the sink. Returning to my room, Eddie was sitting on my bed, his boots and jacket discarded by my window.

“C’mere,” he said, holding his arms out. I climbed onto the bed and fell into his arms. “You alright, princess?”

“Not really,” I whispered. “It could’ve been so much worse.”

“But it wasn’t, because you and Steve were there,” he said, hugging me and rubbing my back.

“Why’d you come back?” I asked, voice muffled by Eddie’s shirt where I had my face buried in his chest.

“You left your history binder in my van. I’m assuming you’re not going to do your homework though?”

I laughed, shaking my head and cuddling closer to Eddie.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked. I nodded against him, and he moved to lie down, pulling me to lie beside him, tucked into his side.

“Are you ok? You seem- I don’t know,” I shrugged at the end, failing to find the right word.

“Post-terrified? ‘Cause that’s exactly how I feel. When you opened that door covered in blood, I swear my heart stopped.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, princess. I didn’t know what was happening and I was scared, that’s not your fault.”

We lay in silence for a few minutes until Eddie asked, “Wanna skip school tomorrow? Get a long weekend?” I shook my head, already planning what I was going to do to Carver tomorrow. “It’s really late, I don’t think you should go. We all could use a day,” he said, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. I finally nodded, wrapping my arms around him and trusting he was right. “Get some sleep, princess,” he said, kissing my temple before I drifted off.

I woke up to someone knocking on my door. I wiggled out of Eddie’s arms, opened the door, and saw Dustin standing there.

“Thanks for your help. We’ll see you at Hellfire, right?”

I nodded as Steve came up behind him.

“Go get in the car, Dustin. Thanks again for last night. I called Keith and got us both the night off,” Steve said as he pushed Dustin towards the door.

I smiled my thanks and hugged him before he walked out at the sound of his horn honking. “I’m coming, you little buttheads!”

I turned around to return to bed and saw Eddie smiling at me.

“Have I ever told you you’re a really pretty princess?” he asked, morning voice in full effect.

I fought a losing battle against my ever-growing smile and shook my head as I sat back down.

“Well, you are. Pretty, gorgeous, breathtaking, the list continues.” I turned and hid my face in his shoulder. I felt his shoulder move as he laughed, his hand rubbing circles on my back. I spoke quietly into his shoulder, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

“What was that, princess?” he asked, gently lifting my chin with his ring-clad fingers.

“I said, you’re more of a prince than you realize,” I repeated quietly.

A huge grin broke out across Eddie’s face. He pulled me into a hug, collapsing on top of me. “You are something special, princess.”

We spent the day together reading, watching movies, listening to music, and eating most of the snacks I had in the top cabinet, hidden from Dustin. When he went home at the end of the day, my focus shifted entirely to Jason Carver and how I would make him pay.

Taglist: @loonalockley @paleidiot @kimmi-kat

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic

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sanemisfav · 1 year

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I could treat you 10 times better than he could.

❦ pairings: Shinazugawa Sanemi x GN!Reader

❦ genre: fluff

❦ warnings: I think he's ooc I'm so sorry

❦ requested by: me, myself and I

❦ word count: 426

❦ au: modern au !

You and Sanemi have known each other ever since you both were still toddlers, well it's because his parents and your parents are close friends. Throughout the years, you both got closer and soon became almost inseparable.

Not really a surprise that you had developed a crush on him, but you decided to move on from him since you had a feeling that it might ruin your long-term friendship with him. Plus you're 100% sure that he'd never reciprocate your feelings anyway, so you just kept quiet and acted normal around him.

A few months ago, you've gotten yourself a boyfriend, he was sweet and kind to you, you loved him a lot. But recently he has been neglecting you and never really spending time with you any more, and when you told Sanemi today at lunch, he immediately wanted to kill that boyfriend of yours.

Hell he had wanted to kill him ever since you said you started dating him, Sanemi started to like you a while back before you started dating. Let's just say he didn't know how to express his feelings so he just kept it in deep inside that heart of his.

Sanemi had invited you to his house to know more about this boyfriend of yours and when it all happened. Sanemi never really got to know your boyfriend, you thought it was normal so you agreed to follow him to his house after school.

So now you're currently in Sanemi's bedroom talking.

"Why did you even started dating him anyway? He's clearly a red flag", Sanemi deadpanned.

"He wasn't acting like this when we started dating..he just randomly started neglected me like a week ago, I'm still trying to figure out what I did wrong that could lead him to neglecting me..", you sighed and looked down on his bed.

Sanemi saw the sad look on your face and it would always break his heart to see you sad.

"Tch, I could be better than him.", he'd mumble under his breath. "What? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that..", you lifted your head, now looking at him with curiosity on what he said.

"I said I could be better than him.", Sanemi moved closer to you. "Huh?", you said confusingly, slowly turning into a tomato.

Sanemi leaned in closer and used his thumb and index finger to lift your chin up, now inches away from both of your lips touching one another.

"What I'm trying to say is that..."

"I could treat you 10 times better than he could."

End.

❦a/n: Oh god I thought this would be way longer, I'm sorry that it's so short😭. Well the reason I made this is because it's my birthday today so I decided to make this🥲.

fun fact: This was inspired by a song, betting y'all $50 to guess the correct song in one go/j

❦ tags: @zubbue

Go to my Introduction to get to know me a little more! | Please read my Rules & Request Guidelines before requesting! | Go to my Masterlist for more fanfics!♡

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #anime #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x reader fluff #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #demon slayer x reader

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whiteskullofroses · 5 days

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Noch einer! (DIETER HELLSTROM X READER)

PART 2! (NSFW)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: YALLL ITS HERE. Sorry for the long wait, but I'm telling y'all it was worth it. Once again it is 1 am, and Dieter is looking rather scrumptious. This one is one hell of a smut, so be prepared. (Yall better be proud of me for finally having the balls to write smut:)) Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @kateris-world

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His left hand was in his pocket the whole time, swiftly he pulled his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your face, to your surprise he didn't press a gun to your lips, he pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you.

You were taken back by his sudden actions, as you were sure this was going to be your end, when in reality, it was just a new start.

You knew this wasn't right, you knew that he was your political enemy but oh god how attractive he was. Besides, you left politics behind a bottle of scotch ago.

Dieter leaned into you and used his free hand to grab your waist. Pulling you closer to him, you could taste the alcohol on his tongue.

His hand moved lower to your hips, squeezing them hard. So hard it almost made you whine out. You let your arms fall around his neck and travel up to his hair. Your loss of sence made you make the hat fall off his head onto the ground.

Dieter broke free from the kiss, breathing deeply. He panted and smikred, then pat his lap : "Come sit, mein Schatz."

Spreading his legs, making room for you to sit on one of his thighs, he sighed. As soon as you sat down, you felt something hard: "Have a gun in your pocket?"

He simply looked at you and grabbed your face: "Shhh..." He lifted one of his eyebrows and placed one of his hands on your lower stomach, dangerously close to your pussy: "Be good and keep quiet." He tilted his head towards the other walk-in room, where the meeting was supposed to be held before everyone got drunk. You could hear the other Germans laughing and playing cards, but once Dieter spoke, all your attention landed on his voice: "We don't want them to hear us now, do we," speaking softly in your ear, making you even more lustful for him: "mein Schatz?."

You shook your tipsy head, all you wanted was him inside of you, him touching you and him covering you in love bites all over, the whole rest of the night.

Looking up at him and into his eyes, sitting in his lap with his already hard cock beneath you, feeling his hot breath on your neck as he kissed and bit it. You were in heaven.

"Good girl." His hand went underneath your fake Nazi uniform dress and right into your panties.

Once his fingers were playing with your clit, you moaned out, totally forgetting about the people a thin wall away from you. Dieter was quick to shut you up with his hand now holding your mouth shut.

He finally started fingering you, drawing circles on your clit and stars in your eyes, you felt yourself getting even wetter and even more hotter. For a man, he was incredibly skilled on how to please a woman, quite frankly, you were impressed, but deep down not really surprised.

His hand was holding your mouth so tight that all that was heard for you were soft muffles and moans of pure pleasure.

You moved your ass on his cock, making him whine out in the sudden feeling of friction. Although Dieter felt like he was going to cross the finish line already, you could feel him trying his best to hold back.

All of this became almost too much. Him quietly moaning and gasping in your ear as you rubbed your ass on his cock, you being drawn to literal tears by how good he made you feel. On top of that, you both were drunk to death.

Just as you were about to come, he pulled out of you and quickly picked you up, bridal style, and put you on the table. You cringed at the feeling of spilled scotch soaking your uniform, but didn't really care, cuz after this night, you were planning on burning it anyway.

Dieter put you infront of him, with your back on the table. Spreading your legs, you couldn't believe such a beautiful sight right on-top of you.

Dieter was now standing in between your legs, his hard cock bulging out of his black pants, his hair a mess and his hungry eyes staring at you.

"Please." Was all you had to utter for him to rip your underwear from under the skirt off. As he threw the panties on a chair close by, you lifted yourself up in a sitting position and unzipped his pants.

Dieter was quick to push you back down. With a devilish smirk on his face he breathed out: "So eager for me, huh?"

All you did in response was moan out his name.

That sent him into overdrive. Just hearing you so desperate for him made him even more motivated to make you unable to walk for days.

Dieter finally pulled out his cock, it was so swollen, you almost felt bad for not making him come already.

He placed the tip of his cock at your entrance and slowly pushed in. You took a deep breathe in, ready to take him.

It didn't take you long to get comfortable with his size and become a moaning mess underneath him.

The people in the other room were no longer an issue, as most of them were already asleep, and those who weren't under such strong influence already left the basement and headed home.

"You feel..." Dieter was barely able to form sentences at this point: "so good..."

Slowly, as he felt himself getting closer to orgasm, he started getting sloppier with his thrusts and much more intense with his voice. He was getting quite loud, and so were you.

Leaning down to kiss you, you could smell his cologne. The fragrance gave off a spicy, earthy and almost citrusy like whiff. Definitely Hugo Boss.

"Dieter!" You screamed out, breathless as he made you cross the finish line and come all over his cock.

"Scheisse..." Moaned out the man before he came inside of you. He let his head fall down to your chest, breathing deeply.

Your tangled your fingers in his hair and started to calm down from your high. It felt so intimate to you, and you loved it.

Dieter slowly lifted his head and kissed your forehead. He picked you up from the table and made you sit in his lap once again.

"Mein Schatz..." He caressed your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear: "you did such a good job."

You kissed his cheek and looked Into his eyes: "I would have never, in a million years, guessed how this night would play out."

He simply smiled, looked at the cigarette box on the table and asked: "Noch einer?"

THE END.

#inglorious basterds #dieter x reader #dieter hellstrom #quentin tarantino #ww2 #germany #smut

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emilykaldwen · 29 days

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Fic Rec List 2

I cannot find the link for my first fic rec list. I'M SORRY! Anyway here's another one. These are on AO3 because that's where I read 99% of my fic but if I can find a tumblr handle for people, I will add it! This isn't just HotD/GoT fic, I also included a few other fandoms should anything strike your fancy!

World on Fire - @theothermaidoftarth - In which Nettles is sent North after the Battle of the Gullet. It's Cregan x Nettles! SIGN ME THE FUCK UP! If you love rare pairs, please follow this author. She writes fantastic stories and I just really love their work.

Inertia - @lesbian-kyoru - With the Cat’s confinement approaching, Kyo and Tohru attempt to avoid their feelings as ineffectively as possible. Hi yes do you love Fruits Basket? Do you love a good friends with benefits AU with two emotionally fucky individuals in Tohru and Kyo? Then please run, do not walk, to read this lovely series. I was introduced to this via someone bookbinding this series on the renegade guild and devoured it (I reblogged this series ages ago screaming in my tags)

Something Old - Ducks - Miserable after Oz's departure, Willow casts a spell to have her will done. Predictably, it goes awry, having some interesting affects on Buffy and Angel. A re-imagining of the Buffy episode "Something Blue". One of the first really fandomy fics I got obsessed over (back when Ducks ran their own site, which might still be up?) anyway yeah, it's Buffy x Angel, which teen me was utterly obsessed with and one of the first fics that really ever entered into my mind that you could write long ass series AU fics. There's also an eventual Blade crossover in the final part.

A Game of High Stakes - In_Dreams - In theory, the task is simple: kill Draco Malfoy. In practice, putting a curse through the Dark Lord's favoured lieutenant will take everything Hermione has―especially since he's trying to kill her, too. Even more so when the lines between them start to blur. Sometimes, the only way out is through. Hello yes it's another dramoine fake marriage/real marriage AU but it's so good, really goes into the fuckiness of the war, I just devoured it in a weekend.

Taken - Wheater - An AU set after 2x15: Elijah succeeds in kidnapping Elena, Katherine is out of the tomb and the Salvatore brothers have one hell of a mess to fix. Sometimes you have no choice but to make a deal with the devil. If you can get the devil to make a deal with you… Another oldie but goodie for if you liked your obscure TVD ships. And I was such an Elena x Elijah fan (also Tyler and Elena too pls)

Kingdoms At War - deathwalker - What if Ned Stark wasn't executed at the Great Sept of Baelor? Instead, what if, he had been removed from Kingslanding before Joffrey could give the order for his head? What impact would this have had on the Game of Thrones? It's a Robb x Marg, Ned Lives AU y'all and one day, one day it's gonna be completed and it's going to be amazing. So far it's sitting at just under 700k words, and Marg and Robb are about to take on King's Landing and my body is ready.

Parlour Trick - @stannisfactions - What if Aemond was born with dragon features and hidden away, and Helaena is his bride. Hi yes I scream about this story a lot, Kinderhook is one of my all time favorites, and not only is this fic amazing, but they have a ton of TG fics. A lot of the content is of the angstier variety, as well as a lot of dub con so please mind your triggers.

Aesthetic Chills - sloelimbs - An Eddie/Chrissy fix it picking up where Vecna started, and the Party's adventure taking a different turn. - It's an Edissy fix it fic and just very thoughtful, very moody, very everything. Pretty sure this was the only ST fic I read and it sits in the bookmarks for a reason.

#fic recs #fic reccomendations

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

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Happy Valentine's Day!

Hi everyone :) I have missed you all so much! I have been kicking myself these last two years for being gone for so long. Not only did I feel like I was letting y'all down, I felt like I was letting myself down. Writing is my biggest passion, and I felt like I abandoned it, and you. For context, before I left, I had Covid pretty bad, and am now suffering from long-term effects with my health because of it (that are thankfully more under control now). After having Covid I left a toxic relationship to unwittingly enter another, even more toxic and controlling relationship (whew is that a story!) and I learned that I have ADHD! (How fun is that!)

Anyway, to everyone that's still following me,

No seriously, thank you for sticking around!!

I have been working on some stuff for the last few months that I am so excited to share with y'all!

A few hours after this post will be a little Valentine's Day fluff fic to come out. Then in the coming weeks, I have a song inspired DeanxReader fic to be coming out labeled If You're Gonna Lie, and the following requests (under the read more with snippets of the fic) ready right now, to be queued. The requests will be coming out first, and then my own idea fics.

If you're interested in updating the tag list (whether that is adding your url, removing it or checking for accuracy) click here :) Next fic to be posted February 28th so if you want to update the tag list, be sure to do so before then :)

"Yes! Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm okay!" she growls, "first my dad, then John, now you!" She throws her hand onto her stomach to try to push away the pain. Sam is taken aback by this, and that's when he notices that her hand is held tightly on her stomach. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Sam is confident that this isn't Y/N, that Y/N is in there somewhere, fighting to be free from whatever demon is possessing her.

I hear my name in Dean's voice from a distance, but I'm surrounded by total darkness. I try so hard with all of my might to tell him I'm here, that it's okay, but the words don't come. Just as it takes all of my strength to open my eyes, but they burn. Everything burns. I don't even try to suppress the scream that bellows out of me. Taking as deep of a breath as I can, I'm scared for myself when it sounds and feels like I'm breathing a water and air mixture. "What's happening?" I manage to say, but Dean puts a finger to my lips. "No, no," he soothes, "no, just don't talk. It's okay," he says so gently, and as he maneuvers me into his lap I cry out in agonizing pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, then his voice switches into a shaky, fear filled yell for Castiel that hurts my heart almost as much as my wound hurts.

Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill, being third born after two boys. She never really formed a bond with John like the eldest Winchester had, despite her best efforts to impress the man. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever could be. Up until her eleventh birthday Dean did her hair into pigtails, partly because he didn’t know how to do any other hair style, but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He’d pack her and Sam’s lunch with snacks he’d bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew how eager she was to be just like him. When she wasn’t learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she was spending her time with Sam. He’d help her with her homework, or play board and card games. They had as much in common as Y/N and Dean, neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither really knew their mothers.

Speaking of requests, I'll leave them open for now but I can't promise all will be fulfilled as I try to get my groove. My schedule as I get back into things, I think, will be one fic every other week.

I also updated my master lists and will be posting them later today, to then put them all in one master master list lol

Thank you all for still being here and I hope you like what will be coming out soon :)

Current PermaTags @waywardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @hobby27 @cluz1babe @emptycanvasposts @suckmyapplejacks @sigrunsavestheday @flamencodiva

Dean @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space @ellewritesfix05 @cluz1babe @lyarr24 @mrspeacem1nusone @idksupernaturl @fandom-princess-forevermore @stoneyygirl

Sam @fangirlxwritesx67 @tlovescoffee @immafangirlmess @sizekinkshawty

#supernatural fan fic #writer #spn fandom #spn #bug update

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mooodyblue · 1 year

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elvis tag game by @headfullofpresley 💗

this is gonna be so loong i apologize in advance 😭😭 i have a lot of thoughts and opinions

tagging: @lllsaslll @elvisfatass @prayerstopresley @kiankiwi-blog and whoever wants to do this 😅

questions under the cut bc i rly listed a good chunk of his discography lol

When was the first time you heard of Elvis?

i'm sure my parents have played something of his growing up, i was more into mj than anything else. i wish i could remember like....the first real time i was ever really introduced to him. he's been referenced in so many of my interests that im sure there was i time i was like 10 and being like "oh that's an elvis reference" lol

what's your favorite era?

70s!!!! big daddy era as y'all call it 😅

favorite song(s) from the 50s?

trying to get to you, i'm counting on you, love me, don't be cruel, lawdy miss clawdy, as long as i have you, trouble, crawfish, i want you i need you i love you, one sided love affair, loving you, young and beautiful ...... i should probably stop before i list them all

favorite song(s) from the 60s

fever, such a night, im coming home, pocketful of rainbows, edge of reality, almost in love, can't help falling in love, the walls have ears, do not disturb, cotton candy land, it's now or never, rubberneckin', summer kisses winter tears, crying in the chapel, suspicious minds....literally everything on from elvis in memphis. god i want to list more but i need to STOP!!

favorite song(s) from the 70s

runaway, polk salad annie, you've lost that loving feeling, moody blue(duh), rags to riches, funny how time slips away, american trilogy!!!!!!!!!, hurt, make the world go away, the wonder of you

all time favorite songs that you can't skip?

suspicious minds, an american trilogy, pocketful of rainbows, i'm coming home, rubberneckin', honestly there's so many. i feel bad if i skip sometimes LOL

least favorite song?

im so sorry but tutti frutti💔

favorite gospel song(s)?

i still need to dive more into his gospel music, but i really love crying in the chapel and you never walk alone.

favorite country song(s)?

funny how time slips away, kentucky rain, always on my mind, make the world go away

favorite non english song?

wooden heart <3

a song(s) that make you feel nostalgic?

can't help falling in love 💗

a song(s) that makes you cry?

unchained melody!!!!! lord i can barely listen to it 😭

a song(s) that make you wanna dance?

rubberneckin', im coming home, got a lot o' livin to do, polk salad annie, suspicious minds

favorite song elvis as covered?

any day now and yesterday

what's a modern song you wish you could hear elvis cover?

i think he'd eat up two ghosts or ever since new york by harry styles tbh.

do you prefer vinyl or cd?

vinyl!!! i actually don't own a single elvis cd, just vinyls(cassettes too!)

favorite album?

self titled and from elvis in memphis <3

favorite movie soundtrack?

king creole for SURE

favorite live performance?

the laughing version of are you lonesome tonight 😅 also welcome to my world from aloha from hawaii !!!

a live performance you wish you were present at?

aloha from hawaii 100% but also literally any of his vegas shows in '69 because that entire live album had me laughing my ass off LMAO

favorite jumpsuits?

THIS ONE.

favorite movie(s)?

king creole, loving you, live a little love a little, follow that dream and girl happy(mostly because elvis in a dress)

least favorite movie(s)?

stay away joe, kissin' cousins, and double trouble.

favorite costar?

michele carey <3 i luv bernice

favorite documentary?

that's the way it is

favorite interview?

i didn't even have to THINK about this one. i know this is a press conference but idk. same thing? anyway, june 9th 1972 new york hilton elvis i want you so bad !!!!!! it's iconic and i just love how he is with everyone 😭

favorite car?

idk after i first watched elvis (2022) i wanted a pink cadillac so LOL

do you collect merch? if so, what's the one thing you hold most dear to your heart?

i do!! i have his vinyls mostly. but my tcb necklace is my lucky charm at this point, i just wish i had gotten it in silver instead of gold 😅

do you think you'll be a fan of elvis for the rest of your life?

absolutely. ive had a lot of interests and have lost interest in a lot of things but this is so much more different. he truly is everything to me and i've never felt so connected with someone in my whole life. i really do adore him.

#tag games #this was fun tho it's crazy how much i know compared to months ago

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clatoera · 2 months

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Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 6: Not trying to fall in love but we did like children running

Hi my loves! So. I absolutely hate this chapter. I hate it. I think it's because I liked last chapter SO much and it was so important and this feels so...bleh. Idk. BUT I wanted to post something today for two reasons

It is exactly one year since I posted ARWBFB! Happy birthday ARWBFB, how far we have come! I wanted to go back to the OG roots with this chapter in honor of that, and do something that is just so quintessential Cato and Clove and thats what this is supposed to be!

This is the last chapter for about 2-3 weeks! I have a really stressful couple of weeks ahead where I find out if I have a job or not and will simply be too anxious to write in the mean time! So this is a little Clato-centric treat to hold us all over until I get back to writing in a couple of weeks!

Title from The Very First Night (taylor swift of course)

AO3

Masterpost

As always thank you to the besties who get me through. I quite literally hate this chapter and i'm not happy with it but I put it into the world anyway and it's for y'all. @bodyelectric77 as always, thanks for putting up with my pouting in the DMs. @kentwells I hope this satisfies your cries for Clato content. @ohhowwehavefallen you just get tagged at this point even if you don't want to be sorry not sorry.

Okay! Here we go. Happy birthday ARWBFB you will always be famous to me.

“Why are you all excited?” Clove teases, reaching her arms above her head so she can tighten her smooth ponytail, swatting his hand away as he goes to flick the ends down into her face. “You act like we’ve never done this before.”

“Clove, it's been literal years since we’ve got to do this. We were teenagers.” Cato slides his fingers under the strap of her sports bra and snaps it against her shoulder, something that years ago he learned would make her jump and give the cutest little scowl. When they were fifteen it was accompanied by a knife whirling past his head, but today it was met with a sharp fingernail jabbing his ribs in the same place she stabbed the day they met. “Besides…don’t you remember Enobaria telling us she was never letting us step foot in this new training center? What did she say we were going to do to it? Defer it?”

“Defile it.” Clove corrects, smiling just a little to herself at his enthusiasm. Yeah, maybe it was not the kind of training they had grown up with, but Cato’s excitement was borderline contagious. And yeah…maybe she was a little excited too. She had plenty of pent up aggression with no outlet other than a steak knife and a tree in the back yard these days. “This isn’t training like we’re used to, you know. These aren’t special kids like we were.”

They clearly were not the first choice to take this class, gathered by the disgruntled and last minute request of Brutus earlier this same morning. Apparently the usual teacher canceled earlier this week, but Enobaria had been distracted by some sort of Cashmere related crisis (and if they understood from her vague but uncharacteristically flustered call, it was a Cashmere-Finnick-Glimmer kind of crisis and no one could blame her for her properly placed priorities) and she forgot to find a cover. It was a very hesitant Brutus who offered them the afternoon class followed with the promise of free reign of the athletic facilities afterward to do with as they pleased.

“I haven’t even worked out like that in forever..” Clove continues her internal thoughts out loud, speeding her steps up just a little to keep in time with Cato’s much longer strides. “I can run, yeah, but I don’t even know if I could still do like..a pull up.”

“You’re still pretty flexible, at least.” Cato easily wraps both hands around her waist, before flipping her over his shoulder and tossing her just slightly into the air before she lands back in his hands. The way she kicks at him to put her down is not foreign, and his arms are long since trained to hold her steady despite her flailing tantrums. “And lightweight.”

“Cato, put me down!” Clove demands through gritted teeth, staring indignantly at the ground behind him. She wants to beat her fists against his shoulder and his spine, but experience has taught her that is no use. She is at his will until he decides otherwise.

“Ask nicely…” He taunts her, and she feels a firm squeeze at the top of her right thigh, causing her to squirm in his arms yet again. It is after this that he sets her down, but she realizes when her feet hit pavement rather than grass that it is not because of her own indignity.

The building is not on the remains of what was once their academic and educational home, but rather a much smaller, independent center. It’s much nearer the school where Cato’s mother teaches rather than a pillar of status in the center of the district. It’s no grand home of future victors with the best weaponry district money can buy. No…it’s just a building with a couple of sports fields and some sort of indoor recreational area.

In short, it’s the kind of place Cato and Clove would have seen as the loser training center, back in their childhood.

He slips his littler hand into his, and gives her hand the littlest squeeze of confidence, before be absolutely pulls her inside, betraying even more interest than he had let on in their walk here.

Even as they enter through the double glass doors, they simultaneously notice that it’s so incredibly different than the type of athletic training they had been exposed to in their youth.

There’s about twenty four shoe cubbies on the wall underneath a coordinated number of hooks, all littered with various little child-sized rain coats and backpacks. There are windows all around the top of the room, pouring in natural light, that are open just enough to allow the air that hints of spring to filter in as a refreshing reminder of the impending warm weather and longer days.

It’s such a staunch difference from what they grew up with. Now, the only way Cato can think to describe the center of their youth is dungeon like; no windows, fluorescent lights that fucked with the circadian rhythm of their adolescent bodies. Treating time outside and fresh air as a reward was probably some psychological trick to keep them hyped and excited for the games– arenas were almost always outdoors.

On the other wall is a simple wooden desk, a stack of manilla folders, and an old pre-war desktop computer that had likely been repurposed from one of the many destroyed buildings in their district. There was a woman sitting behind the desk, with simple dark hair and matching eyes, typing absently as she inputs something into what they assume is an online system.

She looks up with disinterest, a monotonous voice welcoming them to the center. However, she must recognize them after a few moments of her typical spiel, because her head peaks up a little straighter. “Cato? Clove? I didn’t know you two were the replacements today?”

Clove recognizes her as a girl who was probably three or four years older than her, Selene if she remembers correctly. She had never even been a top three contender for the games; even if she had who would she have been killed by? Marvel? Annie? Johanna?

Funny, Clove thinks to herself, that she does not see this girl as someone who would have been a victor, but someone who would have fallen to one of her now friends.

“It was sort of a last minute thing, we didn’t expect to be.” Cato answers cordially, though the tilt in his voice told Clove he was trying to place this girl. “Selena, right? What are you doing here?”

“Selene.” The woman answers cooly, continuing the loud clicking of her nails against the keyboard.

Clove resists an eye roll at the evident offense she’s taken to Cato’s lack of recall of her exact name. Clove was called Clover for half her childhood– suck it the fuck up.

“I bring my son here,” Selene clips, slamming the keys a little aggressively, possibly more offended than she let on. “The quarry his dad worked in was one of the many destroyed in the war, taking him with it. I needed a job. The hours were good. Enobaria remembered me from back in the academy, she took pity on me.”

“You have a kid?” Clove asks, mouth risking falling open in disbelief. In her head they were still children, even if she had been older than Clove herself it was hard to believe she was old enough to have a whole child.

Cato raises an eyebrow, and something falls into place for him as to who this girl is even if he is sure not to betray that out loud. “I’m sorry..about his dad.”

“That's what happens to the rest of us, Clove, when we didn’t get to go to the games. We had to get jobs and go about our lives.” Selene responds politely, but the way her eyes flick to the clock behind them reveals she is trying to get out of this conversation as quickly as she can. “Thank you, Cato, He’s in the same class as your sister, I think. Oh look, there he comes now–”

A dinging bell, far less alarming than the whistle that used to be blown at them, signals what they can only explain as the end of the class, and children begin to pour out as parents begin to pour in from the outside.

Cato and Clove are relieved from the conversation when someone slams into Cato from the side, and Clove only has to slightly lower her gaze to see Cora clinging to his leg.

“Hey kiddo,” Cato immediately melts, his demeanor completely shifting as he pulls his sister onto his hip. “I didn’t know you were coming here today?” “Are we teaching your class?” Clove grins, suddenly a lot more enthusiastic at the thought of teaching when it came to Cora being involved.

“No, she actually just finished up. We come here twice a week.” Cato’s mom joins them, rubbing her son’s arm affectionately before she hands Cora her backpack. “You must have the baby class.”

The enthusiasm Clove just felt falls as fast as her facial expression, and her eyes go as wide as dinner plates at the thought. “What do you mean baby class? I thought we’d have teenagers. Or kids like..our age.”

“You aren’t kids anymore, my dear.” Clove’s mother in law reminds her with amusement in her tone, taking her daughter from her son. “The baby class is right after Cora’s. They’re all five and under. You mean no one told you what class you were covering?”

The hesitance in Brutus’ voice makes so much more sense now– of course no one wanted them responsible for babies. Okay, kids, but really really little kids.

“...Brutus just said we could have the space when the class ended.” Clove grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches parents of even younger children begin to drop them off by the door.

“At least it’s only a twenty minute class.” Cato’s mother tries, but firmly takes Cora’s hand. There's an smug amusement in her voice that she does not even bother covering, “Tell Cato and Clove you’ll see them tomorrow for dinner, Cora. They have a class to teach.”

“Byyyye,” Cora whines, and as she starts to head out with her mother, she whips her head back around to lock eyes with Clove. “Will you pleeeeeease take me to see Glimmer and the babies soon? You promised we could see them!”

“Soon, Cora. Soon.” Clove assured, giving her a little wave on the way out. Cora had demanded pictures of the twins every single time she had seen Clove in the couple of weeks since their birth, and practically begged to see them. Glimmer had been fine with it, and insisted it was okay to bring her during one of their many weekly trips to District One. Clove however couldn’t help but hesitate– weren’t school aged kids kind of gross to be around such new babies?

“...Twenty minutes, Clove. We can do anything for Twenty minutes.” Cato tries, but there's a unsure edge in his voice that does not comfort Clove. If either of them were going to be comfortable with kids it would have been Cato– his hesitance was doing nothing to ensure Clove this was going to go well.

As they brace themselves, slowly entering the general gymnasium area, Cato nudges Clove with his shoulder. “I finally realize where I can recognize Selene from.”

“Yeah, she was a couple years older than us in training–”

“No, no, not that. She was hooking up with my roommate when we were fifteen.”

“Delightful.” Clove responds, but the smirk on Cato’s face falls when he looks up and realizes it was not a response to his epiphany at all.

At some point the room had filled with about ten kindergarten aged kids, who were in various positions from sitting criss-cross to face down on the floor. The one that lies face down on the floor lets out a high pitched cry completely unprovoked, and Clove looks around in what can only be described as horror.

“What the hell were we thinking?” Clove hisses, low enough that none of the kids even looked over at her. She suppresses a gag as one of the little boys stuck his finger fearlessly down the throat of another, before the receiving boy chomps down on his invading fingers and he too joins his comrade in wailing. “Can these kids even tie their own shoes?”

As if the universe heard her question, one of the girls trips directly over her untied shoelaces and falls directly onto one of the other kids.

“This is a nightmare.” Clove grabs Cato’s arm, pulling him down towards her height. “What the hell do we do with these kids?”

“...do you think we pair them up?” Cato half-suggests half-asks, quickly counting them up. “There's five boys and five girls, could we pair them?” “And do what? Teach them to wrestle?” Clove snaps, but she has nothing better to offer. “Fine. Whatever. Maybe we make them warm up first?”

“Hey..hey…hey!” Cato tries three times before his booming voice earns ten little shocked pairs of eyes staring up at him open mouthed and wide, more than likely never having been yelled at by such a large man before. “Do you kids want to run a lap or something to warm up?” Cato suggests, trying to move on quickly before he scares them to the verge of tears.

A little arm shoots up from the same little girl who tripped over her shoes only seconds prior. Clove nods in her direction, but she continues to speak before Clove actually gets a chance to acknowledge her verbally. “What-sa lap?”

Clove stares, quite frankly a little dumbfounded. She was asking Enobaira to teach her to throw knives at this age– and these kids don’t know what a lap is? “A lap is when you run around the room in a circle.. You know what? Cato can show you.” She shoots him a smug smile, crossing her arm over her chest before using the other to gesture to the open gymnasium space. “Go ahead Cato!”

Cato can only glare at his wife, before he takes off in a half hearted jog around the room. Clove’s smug grin does not fall from her face until he returns in front of them, these kids still staring blankly up at them both.

Cato gestures to the open room again, gesturing down to the group of kindergarteners. “Okay..your turn.”

They are met with wide eyes and confused faces, and Clove and Cato exchange another look of confusion. “Are they dumb?” Clove whispers, and Cato responds with a light shrug before his arms cross over his chest.

“You guys can run..” Clove explains again, speaking much slower this time as if that will help betray her meaning to the group. “Run…”

The same little girl as before raises her hand again, and as before she speaks before she is even acknowledged. “My shoes are untied.”

“Me too!”

A chorus of “me toos” seems to come from the entire group of children, all who stick their feet out expectantly.

“Oh. And you don’t like..know how to fix that?” Clove questions, raising a dark eyebrow almost in disbelief. Did parents teach anything these days? “Why don’t you all just…take them off. Yeah. Take off your shoes and run like that!”

There’s a general mix of confusion from the children, but that is overpowered by the excitement of feeling like they are breaking rules as they all take off their little shoes and throw them casually to the side.

One by one they take off running, little legs not carrying them very fast around the full sized gym.

“They don’t go very fast do they?” Clove mumbles, rubbing her hand over the length of her face. “This should take up the next ten minutes at least. Then we only have to fill ten more.”

“Yeah! You have legs that size too and you don’t use it as an excuse–” Cato earns a sharp poke in his side for that one, but it does not take the smile off his face.

Every couple of steps one of the kids wipes out, the combination of socks and waxed floor no match for their underdeveloped muscle coordination. As a fourth thud is heard, Cato shakes his head in disbelief. “These really are the loser kids.”

“District Two doesn’t make ‘em like us anymore.” Clove agrees, watching the clock tick by as one by one the group of kids returns in front of them, thoroughly out of breath as some of them lay down on the floor. “How was that!”

“I want to go home!”

“Yeah, I want to go home too.” Clove whispers only for Cato to hear before she claps her hands in front of her. “Okaaaay. We are going to pair you up. Every boy is going to be with a girl-”

“Ewww girls!” Comes from one bratty little boy, who stomps his feet in a way that irritates Clove so deeply she wants to rip out her own hair.

“You won’t always say that.” Cato assures, and continues trying to make little tiny pairs of boys and girls, who immediately are separating. Some throw themselves to the ground, some cling to their friends. Either way it is not going well.

“I don’t want to be with a boy! Boys have cooties!” Another girl whines in protest, her little braids bouncing as she shakes her head back and forth.

“That will change… That will change.” Clove murmurs to herself again, before putting her hands up in defeat. “What happened to discipline! And honor! And skill!” She asks in Cato’s general direction, gesturing out in front of them. “Who is raising kids like this!”

“Our ex-classmates, apparently.” Cato retorts, but finally waves his hand to silence the room. “Fine. You have ten minutes left. Just. I don’t know, play or something? Don’t kill each other.”

“Even that, we would have been encouraged to kill each other, Cato. We TRIED to!” Clove watches as the kids generally disperse into the open space. “This is unbelievable.”

“We better make sure Cora isn’t like this. And we are not letting Glimmer and Marvel raise losers either.” Cato insists, rubbing a tired hand over his face as the room is filled with the sound of kids just playing. “Actually they may be a lost cause, Marvel was a fluke victor.”

Clove snorts back a laugh, digging through the bin of various sized balls and other semi-athletic equipment used by the other classes. There was nothing knife-like nor sword-like in sight. She settles on a tennis ball, tossing it lightly up and down in her hand, testing the weight of it.

Without warning she launches it at a target on the wall, and the sound of it smacking off the concrete brings the room silent for almost a moment. Clove ignores the ache that ebbs in her shoulder at the force, and goes back to find another of the same projectiles. “These aren’t even weighted properly.”

“You’re just that good.” Cato promises, wrapping his arms around her waist and letting his hands linger on the exposed skin of her abdomen a little longer. “I thought we were actually going to get to do something cool.”

“I thought I'd get to watch you take a cocky teenage boy down. I love when you put them in their place.” Clove teases, before she goes back to digging for a couple more appropriately sized tennis balls for her to throw. When she turns back Cato is no longer directly beside her, but has migrated to the mounted bar against the wall. She watches the muscles in his back and shoulders flex as he effortlessly pulls himself up and down in rep after rep of pull ups as if they were nothing. And for Cato? They absolutely were.

She stares at him for a few moments, and even though he’s mostly minding his business, Clove knows him too well. He’s absolutely showing off, and wordlessly challenging her to do the same (and it helps knowing that she most definitely is staring a little too long at his arms as he does so).

Cato knows his display paid off when the sound of rubber on the wall hits round after round around his head as Clove continues to never miss a target. “I miss knives.” She remarks with loud annoyance as the final ball hits the wall, and when Cato opens his mouth to respond he realizes there is an eerie quiet in the room of children.

He lets go of the bar, feet hitting the floor with agility, and when he turns around he notices ten pairs of eyes absolutely locked in on the two of them and their display of athletic dominance.

“Clove…” Cato says calmly, taking a few steps towards her as she gathers ammunition for another round of throws.

“What, you wanna show some actual skills other than flexing your arms-”

“Turn around.”

Clove furrows her eyebrows in confusion but does as he asks, trusting him more than she questions his motive. A sly smile creeps on her face as she sees the awed expressions of the kids they were supposed to be teaching, not ignoring, for the last ten minutes. “I think they’re impressed.. Nothing new. Who isn’t?” Clove begins, before she is cut off by the overly charming alarm that signaled class already being over.

“That was actually pretty easy.” Cato announces, as the barefoot kids quickly run to meet the waiting arms of their rightfully confused parents.

Not too long later, once the building is mostly empty save for the two of them, they sit side by side against the wall.

Cato audibly sighs, stretching his legs out in front of him as his arm drapes over her shoulders. She didn’t need to say it, but he could tell from the way she leaned into him that she was feeling a little bit of an ache from the overuse this afternoon.

“I didn’t think that would be so exhausting. I’m starving.” Cato admits, running his free hand over the side of his face.

Clove laughs, burying her face into his neck as she lets out a sigh of agreement. They didn’t even do that much. Just something about the whole situation; from the unathletic kids, to the whining, to the over competitive nature that their relationship would just never outgrow. “I think I have half a granola bar in my coat pocket. It’s no peanut butter and jelly sandwich but-”

“Damn, I was really hoping you’d peel all the white shit off a pomegranate with a knife for me like old times.”

“You don’t even like pomegranates that much.”

“Yeah, but you’re pretty hot with a knife.”

#arwbfb tag #clato #cato and clove #clato fanfic #arwbfb au #picket fence is sharp as knives tag #always remember we're burned for better tag #clove thg #cato thg

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